Better Safe Than Zombie

Sixteen year old Hazel Williams, and her dog, Azrael, a Siberian Husky, lived two years in the Apocalypse and counting. They fought zombies, endured canned goods, and slept in abandoned houses.

                

PrOlogue: The coconut

    Mark Williams was staring at the photo of his high school photo of his daughter when his co-scientist, Maverick, announced to him that the world was ending.

          The photo was framed with silver and adorned with vines. In it, Hazel was posing with his wife, Lia. As usual, Lia was dressed in her perfect business suit, a professional smile in her face. Her hair was tied in a neat bun and her eyes were as stern as ever. During the years they spent together, Lia was brisk, practical and sharp. She calculated everything--from business dealings to distinguishing truth from lies.

          There was this one incident where Lia's business partner was accused of committing suicide. She knew Fred (her business partner) was professional at grammar and spelling, so when the detectives handed her the 'suicide note' of Frederick Newbie, she immediately said the cause of his death wasn't suicide. When they asked why, Lia simply pointed at a misspelled word in the suicide note.

          There were a lot of cold cases Lia participated in, and she would have been one hell of a great detective if only she wasn't so devoted at her job as a business executive. She would also have been a great scientist if she didn't hate the subject so much. When Mark pleaded at her to at least give it a chance, she reasoned out, "Two parents as scientists aren’t good for Hazel. And she's troubled enough as it is."

          If Mark was asked, he would say 'troubled' is too mild a word in describing his daughter. She was only fourteen, but she already landed in jail far more than juvenile kids past her age did. She also transferred to several schools due to being 'kicked out' by her teachers, and she landed in detention every school day after dismissal.

          The problem was, Hazel didn't seem to care. At all. Oh, she was smart; Mark had to give her that. She possessed a high mental acuity and is shrewd, and as calculating, as her mother. The issue was Hazel didn't seem to use it for good--as quoted by her teachers--but instead use it to scheme.

          If Hazel got caught doing something bad, she was doing it on purpose. He knew she could easily get away with things--if she didn't, she would be halfway to the United States of High Court right now, accused of committing crimes so heinous she would probably be judged as guilty.

          Mark knew if his daughter decided to seriously plan for her schemes, nothing could go wrong. If she decided to rob a bank, she could visit there the next morning and nobody would suspect a thing. But Mark knew Hazel wouldn't do that--when he asked her once why she loved being caught, Hazel just shrugged and replied, "There's thrill in the chase. And I love having a reason to beat people up."

          If there was one thing Mark truly didn't understand about Hazel, it would be her enjoyment of being in a fight. When she was four, she learned how to kick Mark between the legs if he ever so much as orders her to go to her room early at night. When she was eight years old, Hazel learned how to kickboxing. When she was ten, she was a black belter. When she was twelve, she learned Muay Thai. When she was fourteen, she demanded a Siberian Husky as a pet. She named him Az, short for Azrael.

          Now that may not seem too bad, except Azrael is the Angel of Death. Mark was seriously disturbed. After all, what kind of a fourteen year old kid names her pet after Death? Sure, Mark thought, he was an Angel and all, but still.

          It was seriously disturbing.

          Mark looked at Hazel's photo with somewhat an exasperated affection. He loved his daughter--truly, he does. But Hazel's seriously intimidating. For a fourteen year old.

          In the picture, Hazel was half-smirking, but looking genuinely amused. Mark was proud to say his daughter was a classical beauty--high cheekbones, midnight blue eyes, dark eyelashes that makes her face smoky, arched brows, perfectly carved lips, and hair so dark it was the color of midnight. Black-blue. But the delicate regal structure of her beauty was somewhat shattered by her clothing. It was stupendous, and simply outrageous.

          Hazel was wearing a black shirt with skulls on front, black leather jacket, and ripped jeans that snugly hugged her waif-like waist. She was also wearing army combat boots, and if Mark wasn't mistaken, a tattoo of thorns and violet roses on her left arm.  Her eyes were thick with mascara, accenting her perfect dark and smoky eyes. She could be a representative for teenagers’ dark and rebellious.

          Mark's wife was wrong. Hazel wasn't just making troubles. She was the trouble herself.

          When the door of his office bursted open, Mark was half-expecting a robber to c**k his gun at him and take all his money. The force used to open the door was so great that it rebounded on the wall and slammed shut again. Mark smiled when he heard Maverick curse as his head and face collided with the door he thought he had opened. Seconds later, he came in the office, rubbing his forehead and scowling at the door.

          Mark arched a brow at him. "You should get that with some ice."

          Maverick shook his head, as if clearing it from the momentarily collision with the door. "No time," he replied distractedly. "Mark, you should hurry. The world is ending!"

          If Maverick thought this proclamation was going to get a dramatic response, he was sorely disappointed. Mark only raised another eyebrow.

          Maverick, looking annoyed now, stalked over to Mark's desk and hit his fist there, as if making a point. "I'm serious, Williams. Get your family and go North. The plague is spreading."

          Mark only cocked his head at him. "Plague? Nobody said a thing about a plague."

          "Of course nobody's saying a thing about a plague!" Maverick exclaimed angrily, his outburst so sudden Mark almost jumped. "Nobody knows it but me. I've been waiting for the signs of the Apocalypse, and hell, Mark, the plague is the first sign. After it wipes out about 97% of the earth's population by turning them to mutated monsters caused by the virus genotype--"

          "Maverick," said Mark patiently, "Are you sure you didn't watch too many movies?" He was grinning.

          Maverick became furious. "Fine!" he said, his eyes staring daggers at Mark's amused smile. "You don't want to believe me? Fine! Let's see who'll get the last laugh when the plague does reach the city!"

          And with that, Maverick went out of the room and slammed the door.

          Minutes later, it opened again. This time it was Grey, another fellow scientist and a close friend. He grinned at Mark. "Who went loony in the head?" He imitated Maverick's voice. "The world is ending! Oh, it's the Apocalypse! Run for your lives!"

          Grey and Mark laughed, Mark shaking his head ruefully. "I don't know what happened to Maverick though," He told Grey. "He isn't usually this way."

          Grey rolled his eyes. "I don't know. A coconut fell on his head?"

          Mark threw a crumpled paper at Grey, and Grey ducked. "You have to give it to him, though," Grey said. "He looked like he really believed it."

          "Yeah," Mark agreed. "The stuff about the plague--"

          "The only plague," Grey interrupted, "In the world is craziness. Maybe he got it?" Then he grinned. "We're pretty safe then. I still got my brains."

          Mark agreed with him, though later, he would realize how wrong he and Grey were. They weren't safe. Maverick is.

          Because days later, the plague came.

CHApTer one: The Zombie-killer

          Az was growling.

          I woke up, instantly alert. I threw off my bed sheets and exposed the weapons underneath it.

          Okay, don't worry. I know. A seventeen year old girl sleeping together with a wolfish dog, a pick ax, a hammer, five daggers, a shotgun, and two grenades is highly abnormal. I mean, it's not like they're great pillows or something. I nearly stubbed my toe on the hammer when I went to sleep. So I know how highly dangerous this is. You don't know how it felt like to wake up and see the sharp point of a pick ax staring at you. But it's a tad better than waking up and seeing two dead eyes of a zombie staring at you.

          And believe me, I'm talking from experience.

          I suggest you don't try it though.

          I quickly dressed, sheathing the daggers on my belt that looped around my waist. The shotgun went slinging on my shoulders, and the grenades and the hammer went to my backpack that rested on the foot of the bed. The pick ax was grabbed by my hands, and the wolfish dog went to my side.

          All in all? I was ready to take on some zombies.

          Although it would be nice if someone was video-taping me. Who knows? Maybe the future generation would discover my video and announce to the world at large the awesomeness of Hazel Williams, Zombie-killer extraordinaire. I could be a national hero or something.

          Hey, it could happen.

          Slowly, I went down the abandoned house, stopping in calculated minutes before proceeding again. The house was a nice find, since it didn't seem to litter too much gore and zombie blood. Sure, there's a severed hand in the sink, but it's almost decoration. I've seen worse.

          I continued my journey down, Az on my side. I could rely on Az anytime. He always has my back, and he's like a zombie alarm. If the zombie's far enough, he would just butt my hand with his head, not making any sound. If he growls, like he did before, the zombie was near, and us silently escaping is pretty much crossed out from the list.

          The stairs was a long one, and I continued down, mindful of what creaks and what don't. Now, you are probably asking me why I'm going down when I'm pretty much safe upstairs.

          The thing is, people, when something's hunting you, like this zombie probably is, it is NOT a good idea to be upstairs. You'll be easily cornered, and the space is limited. Down on the ground though, you have much space to maneuver, and you can run away, or in other words, escape.

          Upstairs? If you want to escape zombies, you're pretty much trapped since unless you want to jump out the window and become pancake, you really have no choice to decide which is which.

          So yeah, down I go.

          I was almost at the bottom of the stairs when I heard it. The zombie. If any of you had seen the movie Grudge III, you know, that movie with that killer ghosts? Well you must have heard that keening sound the ghost made right?

          Well, the zombies sound like that. I don't think they make that sound consciously, though. When there's a zombie, they always make that sound. It creeps me out. Seriously. It sounds like nails raking on a chalkboard.

          I went down the last step of the stairs, pick ax ready in hand. I cautiously peered around the railing, drawing back when another keening sounded. I peeped out again, squinting in the dark.

          Three zombies were on the living room, rummaging around. They seemed to be looking for something, though what it is, I would never know. One of them seemed to almost look human, meaning he was newly turned. His two comrades were far worse though.

          They were so far in the end stages of the disease that they actually look like corpses. Reanimated ones. And yeah, you might say that aren't zombies the waking dead?

          Well, sorry to disappoint you, but the zombies in my world aren't the reanimated dead. They are people who are once normal and sane, but was mutated by the plague. The plague is kind of a virus that started in Africa, and then spread to the other countries as well. The plague reached us when I was still fourteen years old, about three years ago. I survived because I'm on detention that time, so when it reached my school, I was on our school's basement, silently counting the seconds before I will be released. You might have felt my shock travel across to Alaska when evening came and no one so much as came down to tell me I'm okay to go.

          When I decided that it was late enough that it would be reasonable to do so, I went up and found the whole school empty. It was only when I got home and found my mom turn zombie-like and try to eat me for dinner that I realized what happened to the outside world. Good thing I know how to fight or I'm going to be my mom's own buffet. And good thing I know how to shoot from a gun too. Dad's shiny shotgun was too expensive to just go to waste.

          I stealthily approached them, footsteps silent and almost inaudible. When I was two feet away from the newly turned zombie, I ran to gain momentum, leaping before swinging the pick ax. There was a loud thud as the new zombie's head fell on the floor.

          The other two zombies instantly turned, fixing me with their creepy red eyes. Zombie #1 instantly lunged at me, but I ducked. He went flying over the furniture and knocking them down. Zombie #2 swiped at me with its flailing arms, but I dodged away and kicked him in the stomach. This sent him reeling a few feet back and I turned around just in time to see zombie #1 opening his gaping mouth, ready to tear my flesh out. The pick ax went swinging, ripping his throat open. The blood didn't gush out, like what would happen if you rip the throat of a human like me, but dribbled out slowly, trickling thick dark blood over his dirty shirt.

          Zombie #2 uttered the Grudge-keening sound, alerting me that hello, there's still a zombie alive. I turned around just in time to catch the zombie's body as it wrapped its sickly arms on my waist, sending us both to the ground, me under him.

          Panicked, I flailed out, but since he has more strength than me, I didn't even move an inch. It uttered the grudge-keening sound again and opened its jaw wide, ready to bite me.

          Squealing a girly scream I shall never admit I did as long as I lived--which might not be that long anyway--I closed my eyes, ready for my death. On second thought, no, not really. I was born ready to live not to freaking die! Oh s**t s**t s**t--

          Then a bark sounded above me, and tearing sounds echoed across the room. I opened my eyes to the sight of a zombie carcass lying on top of me, obviously dead. Az was on its side, trying to push the zombie away from me.

          I immediately helped him, uttering a very disgusted sound as my hands encountered a gaping hole on the zombie's chest, obviously Az's doing. I could see intestines lying a feet away from me, ruthlessly bitten out by sharp canine teeth.

          "Az, you're such a barbarian," I chided my dog, finally managing to push the zombie off me. I sat up, wrinkling my nose when I saw zombie blood on my shirt. "And see, look, you've ruined it!"

          I sighed, dramatically rolling my eyes. When Az whined, my look softened. I hugged him. "And hey, thanks for saving my life. I owe you one."

          Az nuzzled his head on the crook of my shoulder, licking me, a move from him that means he's contented. I let him stay like that for a while before standing up. I gazed at the three dead zombies lying on the floor, one decapitated, one with his throat open, and one with his intestines removed. I grinned at my dog.

          "We're awesome, aren't we boy?"

          Az licked my hand, letting me know his agreement. I picked up the fallen pick ax and wiped the blood on it on the covers of one of the sofas. I looked at the place with regret.

          "Shame we have to live," I told Az. "This is a nice place to stay in. But the zombies have found us, and if we stay, there's going to be a big danger for us, Az." I sighed. "Come on, we have to go."

          Az whined, expressing his regret too.

          And so we left the house, the zombie-killer and her dog, walking into the abandoned road and meeting the sun as it rose on the horizon.

CHApTer twO: Sarcastic B*****d

          Fighting a zombie when you're in your underwear is NOT easy.

          And it's not like I did it deliberately. I mean, I was just there, taking off my zombie-blood soaked t-shirt and pants when suddenly the door to the bathroom opened, revealing a lurching, Grudge-keening zombie.

          I mean, Hel-lo? Ever heard of the word PRIVACY?

          And sure, you're a zombie and all, but what the f?

          Even a zombie killer needed her break too, you know.

          And where the hell is Az anyway? Oh right. He was outside, taking a piss.

          The world is seriously screwed.

          So I screamed and tried like hell to cover my body. You know, just in case. You never know. Maybe zombies also rape some innocent girl like me too.

          But if the zombie's first move, which is to open its mouth wide to reveal jagged teeth was any indication, well, either zombies do NOT actually rape girls, or he didn't found me hot enough.

          And I think it's the former because, dude, I am HOT. I have this awesome hair, black-blue, that cascades over my waist in a silky tangle, and these midnight blues that melts every guy's hearts everywhere. Oh, and I have a hot smoldering body too. I know that 'cause I receive catcalls and whistles from guys everywhere. And though I often send them the finger, it's nice to know that I can say I'm gorgeous without appearing vain 'cause you know, it's the truth. I mean, they call me vain all they want, but it's just because they're jealous.

          So to the green-eyed monsters everywhere, I say: F**k you! I'm pretty and and I know it's true!

          Okay, back to the story.

          So this big freaking zombie quickly lunged at me, but I was anticipating that move, so I was ready. I gave him a side blade kick, hitting his head hard and sending it crashing to the floor.

          I immediately did a choke hold on him, as instructed to me years before by my martial arts teacher. The zombie tried to give a backhand blow to me, but I warded it off with a forearm block and countered with a kick on the shin.

          But the zombie was crazy strong, so it managed to break free. I quickly settled into the kokutso-daichi, or the back leaning stance, a basic defensive position of karate.

           I cursed my lack of lethal weapons. It was still on my bag, located outside the bathroom stall. Hey, I wasn't expecting an attack, okay? Just a quick change of clothes, that's all. Who was I to know I would be attacked by a zombie while in my undies? Jeez, this is all so humiliating.

          When the zombie lunged at me again, I used Jujitsu, a basic form of strategy in karate. As most jujitsu’s, I favor hitting and kicking to such a degree they can't be distinguished from karate. All my blows did aim the target, but I know the zombie won't die unless:

          A.) Decapitated

          B.) Heart is destroyed

          C.) Shot twice in the stomach (just once in the head, or in the heart)

          D.) Broken and bruised into a state that cannot be healed

          E.) Killed

          So, in conclusion, unless I can reach my bag in time to unsheath my weapons or--

          Az will do the work for me, which he only just did.

          Az bit the zombie in the leg first, and when it crashed down, bit it next in the jugular. The zombie uttered one Grudge-keening sound before it finally went down, dead as a doornail.

          Once again, I find myself owing Az my life.

          "Good boy, Azrael," I murmured, patting him in the head. He rubbed his furred body on my legs before licking me again and going out. See? Even my dog knows what 'private' is. For a strong and superfast creature, a zombie surely has no brains. They're even dumber than my dog! And to think they were once humans.

          >Another reason to kill zombies: They humiliate the human race.

          And BTW, I did manage to change. Although my combat boots were a little bit dirty. But what do you expect? It's the Apocalypse. It's not like I have time to polish them or something.

          I grabbed my bag and met Az outside, dutifully waiting. My pick ax was once again in my hand, ready to kill. The sun was up and high now, so I'm assuming it's already noon. My stomach grumbled, proving I was right.

          I decided to walk at least a few feet farther before finally hunting for food. I have canned goods in my bag, but I was saving it for the times when going outside literally means you get killed. Another tip when zombies are out in the world: Always keep a food back-up.

          Abandoned cars littered the highway, usually surrounded by flies, meaning there were dead bodies inside. It stinks, but I long grew accustomed to it. Well, okay, not really, but I'm nothing if not a persevering, dedicated girl, so I hope I would grow accustomed to it in time. I can live with anything as long as I just stay alive. I think.

          Weeds sprouted on the cracks in the pavement, and moss grew on its edges. Trees grew on where buildings were supposed to be, claiming its rightful place. Well, few of them. Even after two brutal years, human architectures still survived, towering over me like big tombstones on a graveyard. A deer went inside a gasoline station on the horizon, scattering a flock of pigeons that huddled in the ground. Random pieces of possessions scattered on the road, probably things that were left behind, lost in the panic and chaos of the plague. I picked up a headphone lying on my path, still attached to an iPod. Surprisingly it worked, and music blasted on my ears. Smiling, I put it inside my bag, pleased with my new find. Az was sniffing the ground on my side, probably searching for something to eat.

          Finally deciding enough was enough, I called Az and studied a blood-splattered diner, trying to decide if it’s worth enough the risk. Giving myself a quick shrug, I entered the building, pick ax gripped in both hands.

          The diner was dim, but it was expected. Overturned chairs and tables lined over next to the broken windows, spoiled food being feasted by worms or ants or fungi on the tiled floor. A body was on the counter, only now composed of bones. Dried blood crusted the walls, smudging the green paint. I went over to the kitchen, also marred with battle souvenirs from the plague. This time though, unmistakable zombie blood adorned the walls, looking like a badly painted mural. I stalked over to the cabinets, opening them one by one. Az was quiet on my side.

          I was lucky with my find--three water bottles, two packets of dry meat, and a can of olives. The olives and the water bottles went to my bag, but those packets of dry meat I and Az consumed. Satisfied, I continued our long walk with more vigor, hoping like crazy that someday, somewhere, Az and I will have a better tomorrow than this.

          But my luck always has a way of screwing my wishes, which was proved, furthermore, by what happened the next day.

s v s

          My sleep, thank you very much, was blessedly undisturbed last night. I and Az found shelter on an abandoned pharmacy, fully scouted earlier by Az and announced (by licking me in the hand) that it was a free-zombie area.

          Thus the undisturbed sleep. Which I desperately need. So, thank you world, for working with me this time. A next time of that is gladly welcomed too. Just so, you know, FYI.

          And I don't know if the world enjoyed mocking me, but a second after I made that thought while walking in a hot afternoon on another deserted highway, four zombies attacked me from behind.

          My body, so used in fighting, immediately used the seio-nage or shoulder throw to the first zombie that dared to attack me. Predictably, he went down, and the pick ax went hacking. I just finished beheading the first zombie when two zombies pinned me down, knocking the breath out of me. I had dropped my pick ax, and though I still have daggers on my belt, my arms were pinned by both zombies, so I couldn't reach them. I struggled, but I knew it was futile--my strength was only a tidbit of the strength they have. Damn zombies and their super strength.

          As expected, the zombies opened their mouths wide, ready to bite. I closed my eyes when their jaws were only an inch away, prepared to compose a heart-warming speech for St. Peter so that he'll allow me to heaven.

          My thoughts were on the lines of 'Smoking is dangerous and I don't smoke so please let me in--' when the zombies on my side suddenly stopped gripping my arms. My eyes flew open in shock, looking at the dead zombies on my left and right. They were obviously shot at the heart, and they were dead.

          I was alive.

          And someone saved my remarkable a*s again. It couldn't be Az, because he was still busy tearing the flesh of the fourth zombie, and besides, Az couldn't handle a gun. So I have another savior.

          Then my eyes focused on the face that suddenly appeared above me.

          Warm emerald green eyes. Dark, disheveled hair. High cheekbones, totally-to-die-for lips. Eyebrows like two derisive brushstrokes.

          That guy above me is a god. A dark prince. A very hot, gorgeous dark prince. He was splendido.

          He was so handsome. So handsome that the existence of a loving, awesome God can be its only explanation. I have found religion! I have seen the light!

          All ex-boyfriends went flashing in my head like a fast forward movie. I was like, ex-boyfriend who? Quid pro quo.

          Whoever this guy above me is, he is a five-foot-nine surfer shirt wearin', tight jeans sexy slouchin', smoking smolderin', one hell of an Adonis. You could practically see the hearts pop into my eyes like the ding-ding-ding display on a Las Vegas slot machine.

          He was just a BABE BABE BABE.

          I said, in a kind of an awed voice, "Who are you?"

          And to which he replied, "Ethan. Ethan Blake."

          I just blinked at him.

          A scowl turned up on those perfect lips. "A thank you would be vastly appreciated, you know."

          Sigh. Does he really have to talk? Now my dream of a soul mate-meeting-in-the-middle-of-an-Apocalypse is ruined.

          Just before I could snarl back at him, he suddenly straightened and started to walk away. I hastily stood up, Az as usual, on my side. I ran to catch up to him. "Where the hell are you going?"

          "That depends," he answered, "to which hell you are referring to. Do you mean the hell we're now standing on, or the hell where the devil rules? You decide which."

          Great, I thought snarkily to myself. I got myself a sarcastic b*****d.

          I shot him a look. "You could be a little nice to me, you know. As they say, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar."

          "You catch more flies with s**t," was his reply. "Besides, I just saved your life. You try to be nice to me, and maybe, just maybe, I'll consider changing my attitude."

          I showed him the finger.

          He laughed. "You're a feisty one, aren't you? Ungrateful brat." He noticed Az. "Is that your dog?"

          I nodded, absently ruffling Az's hair. "That's Azrael," I heard myself say.

          He arched an eyebrow at me, looking amused. "Isn't that the Angel of Death?"

          "It is," said I. Then suddenly, I blurted out, "Thanks by the way, for saving my life. I owe you one."

          He looked somewhat surprised by my admission. Believe me, he wasn't alone. "No biggie," he said. "I'm glad to help another non-zombie being."

          "No, really, thanks," my mouth babbled on, momentarily unattached to my brain.

          He just smiled at me, an oh-so-lethal-smile-that-nearly-sent-me-transforming-on-a-puddle-on the floor. I smiled back, then my brain caught up to my mouth, and my smile disappeared. "Where are you going, anyway?"

          His smile vanished too. Such a shame. "North," he said, looking at the horizon. Shadows danced on the road surrounding the scattered cars along the highway. "I heard zombies hate the cold."

          "Do they?" I mused, looking at the horizon too. The sun beat down on my skin, making me sweat. I wiped my forehead with my hand. "Hmm...I guess it would make sense. Mot bacteria and viruses freeze up in low temperature," I added, looking sideways at him. "And since zombies are filled with virus, then they would be frozen too. I can't believe I didn't realize that all this time."

          "I can," he said dryly, and I again hurried to catch up on his longer stride. Az didn't seem to have any problem catching up to us whatsoever. Damn him.

          "BTW, I'm Hazel Williams," I offered, wanting him to talk more. Just my luck. The first human I have ever met, and he was as open as a clammed shell. Az was more talkative.

          When he didn't say anything, I continued, "How did you survive the plague anyway? I know I survived it because I was underground. I don't know why the plague virus only attacked those on aboveground, but I'm glad I survived it. So? What happened to you?"

          I paused, giving him time to formulate an answer. A minute passed. Then another. And another.

          My thermometer broke.

          I stomped my feet, frustrated beyond my limit. I strode in front of him and poked him in the chest. "You. Are. The. Most. Annoying. Person. In. The. Whole. Planet!" Each word was emphasized by a poke on his chest, me standing on my tiptoes to even out his five-foot-nine. I met his eyes, showing my frustration and fury through them. "Well?" I said sharply.

          He only raised an eyebrow. "You don't like the silence?"

          "No!!"

          "Well, try to like it more. The world has enough chaos on it. I don't need your voice grating on my ears."

          A minute passed.

          "You're -- you're...AARGH!" I exclaimed, tugging at my hair in exasperation. I spun away from him, stomping a few feet back to have some distance between us. I then sharply turned around again to face him and raked my hands on my hair, trying to even out my ragged breathing. When I at last reached some kind of resemblance to being calm, I bit out, "Can I at least ask you a question?"

          "You already did," he said, smiling.

          "Another question then!"

          "Shoot."

          "Are you gay?"

          He blinked, thoroughly surprised. "Wait, what?"

          "Are you gay? You know, homosexual?"

          He blinked again. "Uh...no."

          "Then why aren't you attracted to me?!"

          His jaw dropped. "Wha-What did you say?" Then he promptly shook his head. "Wait. Never mind. Oh, and that's already a second question. You only asked me for one."

          "Am I too thin?" I asked, freaking out. "I mean, it wasn't exactly a healthy life for me--"

          "What does that has to do with anything?" He asked, dumbfounded.

          I stopped and looked at him. Really looked at him. "Are you crazy?" I said. "We might be the last two people in the world and you're asking me what does this has to do with ANYTHING?!" I stalked over to him and put my hands on my hips. "Listen here mister," I said, steel on my voice. "You might be the only last boy in this totally crazy world, and I totally can't live without a boyfriend!" I paused. "Okay. Maybe I'm exaggerating. But only a little! Can't you see that? You're the last guy here on Earth! And I might be the last girl! Don't you see how fucked up it might be if you're NOT attracted to me, and I'm your only choice?!? Can't you see why I'm freaking out?"

          He just stared at me.

          After a beat passed with him still staring at me, it seriously started to creep me out. "Uh, Ethan? You okay?"

          Then he burst into laughter.

          Seriously.

          In fact, he laughed so hard he keeled over and clutched his stomach, and he was STILL laughing.

          I just can't understand that guy.

          When he finally sobered, he looked up at me.

          Then he burst into peals of laughter.

          AGAIN.

          Like I said, the world is so totally screwed.

          I just can't understand how it works.

CHApter ThrEe: A one-pound s**t

          "I can't believe you just laughed at me!" I said, glaring at Ethan. "And I can't believe I ever thought you would take me seriously. I'm so stupid!"

          Ethan smirked. "It’s okay to feel what you are."

          I pointed at him. "You! Off my planet! I can't stand to be with you any longer!"

          He rolled his eyes. "Don't worry. The feeling is mutual."

          We were walking now on the streets of a rural area, the time somewhere after three in the afternoon. Typical American houses greeted us block after block, and in contrast to that of the city, the place here is almost looking normal. Dead bodies were just spotted occasionally, mostly lying at their perfectly manicured lawns. The mailboxes were mostly knocked to the ground, broken, or smashed flat. Az was pissing on one of them.

          "I mean, can't you at least stop being sarcastic for a while? This is a serious matter. If we at least have to go to North together, then we have to establish some kind of a comfortable relationship. And don't worry, I'm not hitting on you. I'm just suggesting if we can try to be friends, then why shouldn't we?" I took a deep breath. "Or if you don't want to be friends with me, we could try to be partners, I suppose. I've been on my own for a while now, and I'm not that sure you'll always guard my back. You're still a stranger, for Christ's sake! And everybody knows not to trust a stranger." I suddenly noticed that he seemed to be nodding off. In fact, he IS nodding off. "Hey, are you listening to me?"

          "Please keep talking," he said. "I yawn when I'm interested."

          I hit him in the shoulder, and he just smirked.

          This guy was impossible. It was as if he got a kick out of annoying me. Which, knowing him, is probably true.

          We walked in silence for a while, and though it surprised me, it was a comfortable silence. No one was trying to break it by offering some awkward conversation, and not one of us is tense. After ten minutes of it though, it kind of ticked me off, so I pulled the iPod and the headphone I picked earlier out of my bag and turned it on. It was all pop music. Contented, we walked on, the sun finally setting on the horizon.

          "Let's find some shelter," Ethan said, and I called Az. Az immediately went to my side, his tongue lolling out. I flicked my fingers, and he went off, searching for some zombie-free houses. Ethan was watching Az run off. "That dog of yours is sure useful," he finally said, turning to me.

          I carefully plugged out the headphones, turned off the Ipod, and stuffed it in the bag. "He is," I agreed. "Az and I go a long way back."

          He didn't say 'Obviously' but it was all over his face. I sighed. What is his problem? I have enough number of people to hate in this world without him adding to it. I so didn't need this.

          Az suddenly barked, and the two of us followed the sound, stopping right in front of a simple-looking house with two broken windows.

          "When Az barks on a house," I explained to Ethan, knowing he's confused, "It doesn't just mean its zombie-free. Most of the houses here are free of zombie. When Az barks, it means it has a smell of less death than the others. I mean, not that Az can smell death, of course. What I mean is, Az can smell less blood and gore on this house than the other houses here. And its also zombie-free. Meaning, it's a nice place to stay in for the night."

          He nodded, and we entered the house. It was only when Ethan readied his gun that I realized I had forgotten my pick ax. I let out a long stream of creative curses that even had him arch an eyebrow in awe.

          "Pick ax," I said, in a way of an explanation.

          I picked one of my daggers in my belt and held it ready in one hand. I knew I had no reason not to trust Az's instincts; it had never even once mislead me. But it was better to be careful.

          The house wasn't as nice as the place where I encountered the three zombies, but it'll do. One tip to know if you're living the Apocalypse: You want to survive--never be picky. It'll be the cause of your death.

          When it was fully scouted, Ethan and I cleared the cluttered mess in the upstairs master bedroom, throwing aside the broken lamp, the wrinkled clothing, the dust, and the dirty carpet. We took the most two cleanest mattresses on the whole house, laying them on the floor and covering them with blankets. Mine was a little moldy, Ethan's a little dirty, but we'd survive. I even slept under a bridge once. Now, that won't may sound too much bad for you, but I have a roommate. And that's a dying corpse.

          Try sleeping with a body full of maggots just a few feet back. Even s**t would smell like honey after that.

          Ethan and I didn't find any food in the house, and it’s too risky to go outside and scout for some. Zombies can go out in the daylight, sure, but they like night better. The zombies have one hell of a night vision.

          So I selflessly sacrificed my emergency food with Az and Ethan, whom, I little more than noticed, didn't even say thank you to me? Who's the ungrateful brat now, hmmm?

          When he still didn't say anything after two minutes, I said, "Your welcome."

          He looked up. "For what?"

          "Oh, you didn't say thank you?" I batted my eyelashes innocently. "And I thought you were such a polite gentleman. Guess I was wrong. You're just as dickheaded as everybody else."

          He resumed his eating. "Wait for a moment. Let me just turn on the part of my brain that gives a damn."

          I got annoyed. "Can't you just say thank you?"

          He sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. "Didn't you hear about the saying it’s better to give than to receive? You gave. I received. Don't expect anything else."

          "You're such a jerk!"

          "Takes one to know one," he smirked.

          "F**k you!"

          "Are you sure? The bed's not yet ready."

          Count to ten Hazel, I told myself repeatedly. Count to ten. One..two...three...four...

          "Okay, okay!" I said disgustedly. "I take it back. Unfuck you!'

          He arched one brow. "Well, I gotta say, that phrase is going to make history. I'm sure no one said it yet to me."

          Despite myself, I smiled. I hate the fact that he was a smartass, but... he still might have hope yet. He smiled back. "You know," he said conversationally, "you grow on people. But so does cancer."

          And there goes my perfectly happy moment.

          I scowled at him. "You're so charming, you know that?"

          "So they say."

          I threw him a piece of my sausage, and he caught it with his mouth. "Nice shot," he mumbled while chewing.

          "I was aiming for your head," said I.

          He grinned. "Well, nice shot anyway."

          I fought valiantly another episode of oh-so-melting-because-of-his-killer-smile and said, "Whatever."

          Yeah, nice comeback, Williams, a little voice in my head told me.

          Go and f**k yourself, I told that little voice.

s v s

          I was chained to a chair.

          My science teacher stood in front of me, eyeing me under the rim of her spectacles. Her face was as hawkish as ever, and it didn't help matters as she was tapping a thirteen inch long wood on her palm. My wrists and ankles were bound, and on my desk, a test with an F encircled above it.

          "Ms. Williams," she said in a stern voice, "What kind of an animal poops a one-pound s**t?"

          I should have known I was dreaming then. Mrs. Reed doesn't say the word 's**t'. She says it as an "Undigested waste that passes through the large intestine and leaves the body through the anus."

          My dreaming self guessed, "Big foot?"

          "Brrt," she said, like those sounds on TV shows when you say a wrong answer.

          "What then?" My dreaming self asked, irritated.

          Mrs. Reed cackled. "YOU!!"

          And that's when I woke up.

          Az was licking my feet, lying on the floor. It tickles, but I was still trapped in the dream. I shuddered.

          I could see Ethan already awake, glancing at the street outside by peering through the thick, slashed curtains.

          "I just woke up from a very, very horrible nightmare," I announced, rubbing my eyes.

          "Were you talking to yourself?" Ethan asked.

          "Uh...no."

          "Then it’s not a nightmare."

          I glared at him. If that's how he greets people 'good morning', no wonder they'd say 'f**k you' back.

          I stood up. "What are you looking at?"

          He nodded at the street outside. "There's a group of people walking."

          "What?!" I said, dashing to the window. Sure enough, a group of people looking exhausted enough to drop was walking outside, their footsteps silent. There was an old man, two girls my age, and a boy my senior. They didn't carry any backpacks.

          I turned to Ethan. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking that I think that you're thinking because if you think that I think what I think I'm thinking then we've got a problem?"

          He blinked. "What?"

          I sighed. Boys. Why they couldn't catch up so quickly to what we girls are saying, I have no idea.

          "Do you think we should say hello to them?" I asked, reconstructing my sentence for the beings who have such a big head, but have such a small mind.

          He shrugged. "Dunno. They're going north too. Do you think they'll be a burden, or a help?"

          I thought about it for a moment. "I think we should go with them," I decided, picking up my bag. "If they're a burden, we could just leave them. If they're a help, then so much the better. Easy-peasy."

          I whistled for Az. He immediately came to my side. I looked at Ethan's gun. "Maybe we should look as harmless as possible," I told him, setting my bag down and zipping it open. I held my hand out for the gun.

          He immediately protested. "No way. This has been my companion for about--" He noticed my small cache of weapons. "Holy s**t. You've got yourself your own armory."

          I grinned. Then I looked at his gun. Then I looked at him.

          "No way," He shook his head. "This little beauty is mine."

          I rolled my eyes. "I have my own little beauty too," I said, pointing to dad's shotgun I somehow crammed in the bag. "I won't take yours."

          When he still hesitated, I sighed and unclasped my sheath of daggers on my waist and handed it over to him. "There. You have weapons you can easily access to, and I don't. It's more than fair."

          I failed to mention the two small hidden knives on both of my combat boots.

          He sighed too, and handed reluctantly to me the gun. "You're supposed to be weaponless anyway," he told me. "You're a girl. You're supposed to be a damsel in distress, not a knight in shining armor."

          I stuffed his gun in and took out my Ipod and headphones. "If I plug this in and look clueless, would they underestimate me?"

          He smirked. "Probably. That's usually how you look anyway."

          He darted out of the way before I can hit him.

CHApTer fOuR:  The Dodo Bird

          I ran my hands through my hair, trying to smooth them over. Music boomed on my ears about dancing till the world ends, which is kind of ironic, since I'm living the Apocalypse, and dancing wasn't really on my to-do-list. It's kind of something stupid that will just get you killed.

          I stuffed the iPod on the left front pocket of my jeans. I turned to the guy beside me, arching one brow. "You ready?"

          "Nope," Ethan answered. "But you'll just go anyway."

          I just grinned at him.

          With one long inhalation, I opened the door and strode outside as if the rotting bodies on the lawns were an everyday occurrence.  The group turned to me as one, and all their eyes widened. I felt like a newly discovered specie shown at a zoo.

          I waved at them casually. "Beautiful morning, eh?"

          I heard the door close, and I turned around to see Ethan walking towards me with the gait of an arrogant and spoiled person. You know, when they swagger and stuff.

          I gotta hand it to him. He looked just like those snobbish kids you see on private schools that sneer at everyone below them.

          He looked nonchalantly at the direction I was waving. He nodded at them. "Oh, hey."

          "Think we should go and say hi?" I asked Ethan, my voice loud enough for the group to hear. He shrugged. "It’s up to you."

          I acted as if I was thinking about it and carefully approached them. "Hey," I greeted. "All of you new in the neighborhood?"

          The old man went in the front of them and carefully scanned me from head to toe. I just coolly stared at him. "Yes," He finally answered, his voice deep. "You kids live here?"

          I bristled. "I'm not a kid."

          He looked amused. "Well, to me, you are." He noticed someone behind me. "Is he your brother?"

          Ethan stepped out. "Thankfully, no."

          I almost smacked him. But he was playing the arrogant b*****d role (which, I have to say, really suited him) so I couldn't do that. I was supposed to look helpless. Or, if not helpless, at least non-violent. F**k. I hate this role.

          The two girls my age I noticed earlier giggled at Ethan, and I knew they were definitely pleased with what they saw.  Judging by his smirk, he totally knew that too. The urge to smack him increased.

          I nodded at the group behind him. "Are they your family?"

          The old man chuckled. "No. But they're sisters," he said pointing to the two girls. Now that I focused more on them, I realized he was right. They both have the same build, the same blond hair, the same face structure. One girl has blue eyes, the other oak-green. Both smiled at me. I smiled back.

          "I'm Bree," said the blue-eyed girl.

          "And I'm Dana," introduced the green-eyed one.

          "Nice to meet you," said I. "I'm Hazel."

          "And I'm Ethan," said the boy beside me.

          The boy beside the two sisters grinned. He met my eyes, showing me through his eyes his appreciation of my physical appearance. "The name's Xavier," he told me, obviously flirting. Ah. How nice it is to be once admired again. Ethan's a cold-blooded ape who takes everything for granted.

          And with that, I mean ME.

          I turned to the woman beside him. She has brunette hair, warm brown eyes, and a body toughened up by the rough years of living the Apocalypse. "I'm Sally," she said, smiling genuinely. I couldn't help but grin at him back.

          "And you, old man?" Ethan asked the leader rudely.  And because I couldn't smack him like I really wanted to, I settled for a tug on his arm and a hiss. "Manners," I reminded him sweetly.

          The old man didn't seem to mind Ethan's lack of manners. "I'm Simon," said he.

          "Nice to meet you, sir," I said politely, trying to make up for Ethan's disrespect earlier. Beside me, he snorted at my effort. I glared at him. He just smirked.

          "Light travels faster than sound," I told the old man. "This is why some people appear bright until they speak."

          Simon laughed. Ethan just rolled his eyes and broke free of my grip. "Nice joke, Williams. Very funny."

          "You're the only one not laughing, Blake," I told him scathingly. "You're just jealous."

          "Of your wit and goofy humor?" He grinned. "I don't think so."

          I almost smacked him. Instead, I said in a seething voice, "Shut. Up."

          His grin widened. "Or what?"

          "Or...or..." I just lost it. I smacked him. "You're a dead man!"

          He pretended to check his pulse. "That's weird. I feel alive."

          Later, Ethan will call me a hot-headed girl with a short temper. But I swear, I just moved on instinct.

          All I know that I was just standing there, fuming, but then, in the next second, I saw my knee hitting him in the...ahem...balls.

          "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"

          Birds flew in alarm as Ethan let out an ear-splitting scream that made my ears pop. It was probably heard all the way to Pluto.

          "Sweat heavens, woman!" Ethan said, clutching his most prized possession as I stood there, looking sheepishly at him. "Have you no mercy?"

          I held both my hands up in surrender. "It was an accident, I swear!" I protested. "Seriously, I didn't mean to hit your di--"

          "If you have done permanent damage to it, Williams," Ethan said, glaring at me, "I will hunt you down to the ends of the earth and kill you. And I won't stop with that. I will hunt you in hell, and make sure you will pay for the eternal agony you have caused me."

          I raised an eyebrow. "Eternal agony? That had gone too far, don't you think?"

          "I will massacre your grave," he continued. "You won't have a proper burial."

          I grinned. "I'll tell my agent to write on it 'Rest in peace'. Surely you won't manage to massacre it? Engravings are permanent, you know."

          "Fine then," Ethan said. "If it can't be erased, I'll just add, 'Until we meet again' ".

          "You won't!" I said, horrified.

          "Be assured I will," he said, grinning evilly.

          "How could you kids talk about your deaths like that?" Sally scolded.

          I shrugged. "It’s not like it’s true. I probably won't even have a grave."

          "That's true," Ethan added. "We'll probably just be left on the road, just another one of the torn carcasses the zombies had eaten."

          "Gross," said Bree.

          Ethan finally stopped clutching his peanuts and properly stood up, sending Bree a grin." "Its reality."

          s v s

          "She always finds herself lost in thought...its unfamiliar territory."

          Ethan's smirking voice made me come back to earth faster than anything he could have done, and my head snapped to him, scowling. "So the dummy says."

          It was night time, and after reassuring Simon we're trustworthy and making him believe Az isn't rabid, Ethan and I have traveled with them together most of the day due north, sharing our food and supplies (I still haven't told them about the weapons--I'm not sure I could trust them) and picked an abandoned house Az had sniffed to be our shelter for the night.

          I had just finished eating my share and petted Az on a corner, so my mind drifted. And now, thanks to Ethan, I came back into this lousy world full of Grudge-keening zombies and obnoxious arrogant jerks like Ethan, who, if you ask me, should just have been put on a mental hospital and leave rotting there. When we first met, Ethan was looking good from afar...now he's far from looking good. Let me tell you, that beauty is so wasted on him. I grieve for the parents that unleashed Ethan Blake into the world.

          "Like you're not a dummy yourself?" he asked.

          I growled. Hallelujah! I have found the name of the bacteria that makes people go into stroke--Ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to present--Bacteria Ethan Blake!

          A big warm of applause, everybody!

          I was about to retort back if his peanuts is healing yet, when a person joined me in my haven. I looked up. Smiled.

          "Oh, hi Xavier."

          He smiled back, and then threw a baffled look at Ethan's direction. "I'm confused," he began.

          "Well, nice to meet you Confused," I said. But I thought your name was Xavier. What changed?'

          He grinned. "Cute."

          "I know I am, but what about you?"

          Okay, that was probably laying the charm thick, but I need some flirting. Ethan wasn't exactly volunteering, and Xavier was the only teenage guy here.

          As if he agreed with my thoughts, Ethan rolled his eyes and smirked at me.  Bree and Dana were both sitting beside him, giggling under their hands. I thought Dana and Bree would be enough to distract him in annoying me, but it looked like I underestimated Bacteria Ethan and his capacity to vex me. Stifling a growl, I stood up and grabbed Xavier's hand.

          Pulling him into the other room and ignoring Ethan's voice singing "Hazel and Xavier sitting on a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G...” I closed the door behind me to block out the annoying sound. When I slumped on the floor and gave a relieved sigh, Xavier observed, "He's that annoying, huh?"

          I raised my eyes to the heavens. "You have no idea."

          Xavier sat beside me, his dark brown eyes looking almost black in the darkness. I looked around.

          We were in the kitchen, empty except Xavier and me and a couple of rats that nibbled on a fallen packet of oatmeal. Broken plates and glasses littered the floor, glinting like silver. There were specks of blood on the cabinets, but there was no severed hand or body parts that I could see. Az got lucky this time.

          "So what are you so confused about?" I asked Xavier, turning to look at him.

          He blushed adorably and my heart melted. But his next question sent my heart through the stages of grief: Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and halting at acceptance. Acceptance, that he, indeed, just asked that question.

          "Is Ethan your ex-boyfriend?"

          "No!" I exclaimed, my voice with enough passion to knock down an elephant. "How could you say that? Do you think I'm that desperate to date that jerk? Puh-lease. I would never date that guy even in my nightmares!"

          "Okay, okay," Xavier said, hastily surrendering. "I was just asking."

          But I was still reeling. Xavier thought Ethan was my ex? Jeez. I would rather date Simon than him. Thank God he isn't the last boy on Earth. If he was...my God. This is indeed the end of the world.

          "Well, he's not," I said firmly, trying to erase any doubt in Xavier's head. "He's obnoxious, annoying, arrogant, and a jerk-faced dickhead! I would rather date a...dodo bird than him!"

          "A dodo bird?" Xavier asked, his lips curving.

          "Yes, a dodo bird!" I declared. "I don't care if they're extinct. I would rather date one of them than Ethan." Then I turned to him. "Could we not talk about him? He's ruining the mood."

          As we talked, I noticed that Xavier and I were going closer and closer together. In fact, I could even probably count the flecks in his iris. He was THAT close.

          "And what mood would that be?" he murmured, leaning closer.

          Please let us kiss, please let us kiss, I silently prayed. "Hmmm..." I whispered. So close. "Remind me?"

          An inch. A half-inch. A few centimeters....

          "Woof !"

          We broke away as Az licked my cheek, his body snuggling to settle between us.

          "Az!" I said, surprised. "What are you doing here?" I swear I closed the--

          "The door was open," a voice said, and Xavier and I looked up to see Ethan leaning on the doorframe, a half-smirk on his lips. I was about to retort back something nasty when he unpeeled himself and walked away. I turned to Xavier and grumbled, "Well, that was a definite mood-killer."

          I was pleased to see that he was as disappointed as I felt. "Maybe some other time?" I asked, holding my breath as I waited for his answer.

          "Definitely some other time," he replied, and I smiled. Damn Az. Damn Ethan. Damn the world.

          Luck.

          That capricious b***h.

CHApTer FiVE: their savior

          Green trees. Green grass. Green weeds. Green eyes. Green. Green. Green. Green.

          I hate green.

          We were walking on a country side, green trees standing on rows beside the cracked road. Green hills and green pastures spread like a giant green carpet before us. Ethan turned to me. Green eyes. F**k! I hate green. Green for recycle, green for earth, green for green apples, green for mucus. Green. Green. Green.

          I hate green.

          "You okay Williams?" Ethan asked. "You look green."

          Even my face was turning green!

          I swallowed my nausea and forced my face to turn back to its normal pallor. Unfortunately, my mood became as sour as the bile in my throat that I held back. "Piss off, Blake."

          But Ethan being Ethan, my rude reply didn't seem to deflate him. "You know what's my favorite mythical creature?" He smirked. "The angelic Hazel."

          Bree and Dana were walking beside him, their eyes full of adoration and awe. If they could be any more whipped, they'd be ice cream.

          Xavier was at my side, nodding to the beat of the music from my headphones and iPod he borrowed earlier. Az was on my other side, his tail wagging as he walked.

          It was around eight o'clock in the morning but the sun was already high in the sky. Birds in V formation flew by, and I watched as another passed.

          "You know Ethan," I said, trying to tamper down my foul mood, “Sometimes I need what only you can provide. Know what that is?"

          "What?" Despite of himself, he looked curious.

          "Your absence."

          He gave me a cocky grin and dramatically touched his chest. "Oh, how you wound me. My heart would forever bleed."

          I showed him the finger.

          One hour later, Simon halted us as he surveyed from afar a car that had been diagonally parked on the road. By far, it was the cleanest car I had ever seen. There was no flies surrounding it and it didn't look too blood-splattered.

          Sally walked towards Simon. "Think it runs?" she asked quietly.

          "Only one way to find out," he replied.

          Simon took out his old trusty Winchester Model 73 pistol and slowly walked toward the car, Ethan and Xavier, who gave me back my iPod, flanking him. They let us girls stay behind just in case of danger (as if). Ethan winked at us before swaggering to the car. Arrogant b*****d.

          When they were far enough, I stealthily palmed one of my K-bar knives from my combat boots, luxuriating in the familiar feel of wrapping my fingers around its hilt. I miss the pick ax, though.

          Az looked agitated, probably as restless as me for not joining in the scout. Az wasn't a girl though, so I sent him towards them, knowing they'll need more of Az's skill in scenting danger than I do for the moment. He happily trotted off, and we girls watched as they circled the car, deciding whether to risk checking its interior.

          As they hesitated, I felt the hair on my neck stand up. I turned just in time to see one of the three zombies rake its long dirty fingernails down Sally's back.

 

          s v s

        At Sally's blood curling scream, the boys turned to look just as the three zombies descended on us.

          Bree and Dana completely freaked. They ran, unaware that it just only enticed to chase after them. They like playing cat and mouse.

          As for me, I was busy slashing the throat of the zombie that raked Sally's back. When I looked at her, her shirt was soaked with blood, and she was wincing.

          Nevertheless, she panted out, "Help the girls."

          I gave her a nod, then turned around and began running towards a particularly large thicket of trees. The boys were still far away to help Bree and Dana so I have to be their saviour.

          After all, a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do.

          "Bree! Dana!"

          Twigs and dry leaves crackled and broke as my feet thundered above them, my eyes squinting in the sudden darkness. The leaves of the trees blotted out the light of the sun, so it was dark and shadowy under the crowded trees.

          "Bree! Dana!"

          I dodged past looming trees and ran full out, despite the ache in my sides. Slick sweat beaded on my forehead, my eyes narrowing in concentration.

          F**k! This is why I used to hate befriending any girl at my last school. At best, they tell you what's fashionable and what's not. At worst, they were deadweight. Girls like Bree and Dana. I always knew it would come to this.

          A muffled scream caught my attention, and I turned towards the direction it was coming from and sprinted, panting like crazy. When it was just me and Az, we have no rescue missions like this. He and I could probably take anything thrown on our way, and we always have each other’s backs. Now that I have made companions, I have more people to care about than just as two. More people to lose. More people to fight for.

          "I'm coming!" I yelled, pulling out my other knife. I could see now their silhouettes, Dana and Bree struggling against the two rabid zombies. Despite of the situation, I couldn't help but criticize how weak their efforts seemed to be--Holy s**t! Rabid zombie one is about to clamp its jaws on Dana's throat!

          In desperation, I threw my knife on my left hand. It didn't wound him, but the hilt did hit him in the head. He made the Grudge-keening sound, turning to bare its yellowish teeth at me.

          "Do zombies don't have a dentist or do you just like yellow teeth?" I wanted to know.

          I didn't know if it could understand me, but it snarled and tossed Dana aside.

          Then it charged.

          I grabbed a branch above me and swung myself, both of my feet hitting the zombie in the chest just in the right time. Dropping to the ground with the hilt of my other knife gritted between my teeth, I pivoted on my heel and placed a sidekick on the starting-to-get-up zombie.

          I took out the knife from my mouth and plunged it to its heart with all my might. The zombie's body spasmed, and I twisted the knife until, with a final twitch, the zombie died.

          "Hazel!"

          I looked up to see rabid zombie two pulling Bree towards him and Bree trying to pull away. Dana was trying to tackle the zombie from behind, with no apparent success. They seemed to have forgotten that a knife I've thrown was lying not only a few feet away.

          I ran towards them, sliced the zombie hand gripping Bree, yelled at Dana to let go, and slashed its throat. The zombie crumpled to the ground.

          Bree and Dana were both trembling, probably in shock. I slid in both daggers on my boots after picking up the one I had thrown earlier.

          I was searching my mind for words of comfort to offer the girls when Sally and the men strode in, their faces showing their alarm and fear.

          After checking that, in fact, we were alright, and that I, in fact, had slain all the zombies, Ethan was the only one who had the capacity to muster a grin.

          "Living on earth is expensive," he remarked. "But it does include a free trip around the sun."

CHApTer Six:   Azrael

          "He really charmed the girls, didn't he?" Xavier observed.

          It was noon, and after checking out that Sally wasn't infected (there are only two ways to become a zombie: 1) When you have an open wound and zombie blood is exposed on it. 2) When a zombie has bitten you and left you alive. It takes three days for the infection to start. First, you'll be doing okay, and the next thing you knew, you could lift heavy objects and start craving human flesh) and after that, we ate lunch.

          Bree and Dana didn't seem inclined to talk, but with only just a half-hearted prodding from Ethan, their poured their heart out, Ethan saying silly things like "Oh, you poor sweetheart," and "The zombies stank, didn't they?"

          "People would follow him anywhere," I said to Xavier, "but only out of morbid curiousity."

          He snorted a laugh.

          My gaze wandered to our newly acquired car, Simon standing protectively beside it like--no, scratch that--exactly like a possessive owner. I couldn't blame him, really. One out of a million, the car turned out to be able to run okay. It was like winning a lottery, only a million times more.

          "Dana and Bree were lucky to have you there," Xavier said to me softly.

          I shrugged. "No biggie. I'm sure they could protect themselves if they have to."

          I was lying, but I knew it was the right thing to say. After all, I just couldn't say "Yeah, they owe me their lives"?

          I mean, if I was going to be a national hero or something someday, I better be modest, right? After all, the world belongs to the meek and the humble in the near future.

          Besides, if I would die, at least I'll have a new reason to give St. Peter. I'm not sure not smoking counts. Now I have an alibi. I'm sure Xavier would be glad to be my witness. Not that I doubt St. Peter would doubt my word, but better safe than sorry.

          "I still can't believe you took on those three zombies just on your own. I mean, you look pretty harmless," Xavier said.

          I bared my teeth at him. "Still looking pretty harmless?"

          "Pretty, yes. Harmless? No. Now I see how you managed to kill all those zombies."

          I gave him my sweetest smile. "Thank you, Xavier."

          He gave me a smile back. "You're welcome."

          "Welcome to what?" I gave him a sultry smile. "To kiss your lips?"

          "No."

          My heart stopped. He continued, "I will kiss you, and if you don't like it, you can give it back to me."

          I smiled and said, "Deal."

          Then Xavier kissed me.

          s v s

          I felt contented as I snuggled up to Xavier in the backseat, his arm curled around my waist. It made ignoring Ethan easier, with him flirting with Dana and Bree beside us. If I hear one more of his lousy pick up lines, I'm going to barf.

          Simon was driving, and Sally was on the passenger seat, petting Az. It was a relief not to walk anymore under the sun, and the comforting sound of the engine lulled me to sleep.

          When I awoke, we had stopped at a gasoline station, the sun setting on the horizon. I sat up and looked at Xavier, confused. "Aren't we going to find any shelter?"

          My mind was groggy with sleep, so I couldn't think about a destructive comeback to say to Ethan when he said, "If you were twice as smart as you are now, you'd be absolutely stupid."

          So instead, I just glared at him.

          "We don't need any shelter now," Xavier explained. "We have a car now, remember? We won't be vulnerable anymore."

          I snorted. "And now that we have a car, we're suddenly invincible? Please. The zombies could easily overtake us."

          "We have guns," Ethan reminded me. "I bet we could easily take them out."

          I rolled my eyes at his overconfidence. "And they have long canine teeth, super strength, super speed, and super night vision. You probably couldn't hit any of them, especially when it’s dark."

          "I have a keen eye," he bragged. "I could shoot anything."

          "I would love to beat you up just for being arrogant alone," I said, "But I have a problem with cruelty to dumb animals."

          "Well, what's wrong with my statement?" Ethan demanded. "It’s the truth."

          "What's wrong with your statement," I said sweetly, "is its lack of credibility. Even if you're a sharp shooter, Ethan, though I highly doubt it, you are like a David to the zombies' Goliath. They are many, and you're just one person. What's one soldier against an army?"

          "She makes a fine point," Xavier chimed in. "I vote for us finding shelter."

          Ethan looked at the heavens as if all the answers to the world were laid there. "A kiss from her and he's already brainwashed," he said. "May God help us."

          Xavier and I both glared at him.

          "You can thank your lucky stars that everything I wish will never come true," I informed Ethan.

          Bree, her head resting on Ethan's shoulder, woke up. "Where's Simon?" she asked sleepily.

          My eyes flew to the driver seat, then to the passenger seat, which were both empty. I can't believe I didn't notice their absence right away. That really says something about my observation skills.

          And I only realized Az was missing too when Xavier said, "The three of them went out to scout the gasoline station for fuel."

          "Did Az bark?" I said sharply.

          Xavier shook his head. "But he growled," he said helpfully when he saw my expression.

          "F**k," Ethan and I said at the same time.

          Xavier looked baffled as Ethan and I raced for the car doors. Because of his panic, Ethan had forgotten that Dana was sleeping on his lap and Bree's head was on his shoulder so when he suddenly jumped, both girls each gave a muffled scream as their heads made an impact with the hard leather seats.

          By the time Ethan had apologized to them and got out of the car door, I was already pushing the double doors of the gasoline station's convenient store.

          Xavier was hot on Ethan's heels, but I didn't look back when both guys yelled my name. Hurry, hurry, my mind urged.

          Because when Az growls, a zombie is in the house.

          F**k.

s v s

          The store was eerily empty as I bursted into the store, my backpack a familiar weight on my back. Pulling my shotgun out, I clicked off its safety and rushed to one of the many aisles, dodging on the way a cart that was filled with cans of diet soda. I noted to myself to shop for food later. My supply of food was already on its minimum and if I wanted to live, I better stock up. 'Cause it would really be embarassing if the engraving on my gravestone is:

Hazel Williams

          April 23, 1998--March 29, 2015

          Died not by zombie, but by Anorexia

          Believe me, Ethan would die laughing.

          I rounded on another corner, my heart pounding quickly in my chest. I keep seeing Simon and Sally's torn up bodies, the zombies happily munching on their flesh. And Az...oh God, Az...

          To keep my thoughts away from imagining Az's torn up carcass, I instead thought of Azrael dancing in the tune of Macarena. Don't ask me why that image popped into my head--even I couldn't understand how my brain works.

          I flew past a myriad of consumer products, barely sparing them a glance before running towards another aisle when it was obvious the threesomes aren’t there. I didn't hear Ethan and Xavier come in, but now, just after I paused to dodge a huge puddle of brackish looking liquid on the floor, I could hear their sneakers squeaking on the tiled floor, considerably louder compared to my quiet footsteps. I didn't pause to let them catch up--hell, I didn't even let my shadow catch up. I was too worried about Az...Simon and Sally included, of course.

          When I reached the last aisle with still no sign of them, I skidded to a stop, confused. Then I saw a back door to my left, and I pushed it open. It wasn't locked.

          It was dark in there, the corridor filled with shadows. I missed Az trotting on my side. He was my partner, my best friend, and my savior. Never mind that he's a dog. He's mainly the reason why I keep persisting to survive when all hope is lost.

          Az. Az. Azrael.

          My very own death angel.

          The first door I encountered was the faculty room, but it was empty. So I raced down the shadowy and dim hallway, my eyes darting left and right.

          At last I reached the door, and when I went in, it looked like some kind of a storage room. Pushing aside pyramids and boxes of various products, I went deeper, my throat clogging with fear.

          Kicking a high barrier of boxes, I tumbled on in what looked like my biggest nightmare come to life:

          Piles and piles of dead bodies crammed into space, blood, gore, flies and maggots all mixed together. And on top of it, half-dead, was Az, whimpering weakly.

CHApTer SEVeN:Doppleganger

          "Az!" a voice screamed, which sounded suspiciously like me.

          The Siberian Husky’s eyes flew towards me before he barked faintly. Az tried to stand up, but again he collapsed, looking exhausted beyond his limit.

          I started forward, but before my feet could take a step, a mangled body nearest to me stirred. Swallowing a gasp, I crouched down, nudging the body with my right boot, wondering how it could still be alive.

          A loose skin flapped open, revealing a squirming mass of maggots inside. I gagged, backed down a few steps, and fell down. Irrational fear kept me from sprinting towards Az, and I wallowed in shame. They're just larvae, Williams! A nasty voice in my head said. What are you so afraid of? Or have you forgotten your partner in crime dying there and needing you?

          Rising in unsteady feet, I took a step forward, a chorus of Nike's famous phrase 'Just do it!' echoing in my head over and over again like a broken tape record.

          Slowly but surely, I made my way towards Az, my eyes closed in a half-mast to limit the horrible experience.

          It was almost as if I could feel the maggots wriggling beneath my combat boots, and it didn't help matters the fact that, in every step I took, a heavy squish sounded, reminding me again and again of the decayed bodies underneath me. And the stench! Just plain horrible.

          I flinched every time a fly touches my skin, imagining them touching the rotten bodies and now touching me...

          When I at last reached Az, I felt like I'm going to heave, right then and there. But I controlled myself, my breathing shallow, took hold of Az's body, and climbed down in a fast pace, a feat any champion in the Olympic games would be proud of.

          I laid Az down my lap, and if his strangled whimpers were any indication, he was in pain. I combed my fingers on his fur, trying to sooth him. "Shhh...Az...I"m here..." I murmured, my fingers gentle. I patted his head and Az craned his head back to lick my palm.

          A tear rolled down on my left cheek. Stifling a sniffle, I wiped it away with the heel of my hand, trying valiantly to stay composed. "Don't die on me, Azrael," I heard my own voice plead, sounding choked. "Don't you dare leave me."

          Az whined and licked my hand again. "You're my partner," I said. "You aren't supposed to die on me..." A sob escaped me. Then another. Then another. Pretty soon I was sniffling and crying and hugging Az not to leave me.

          "If you see a white light at the end of a very dark tunnel," I was soon advising to Az, "Do not go there, do you hear me? It’s Satan. He's just tricking you. It’s probably just a flashlight--" Then I broke into hiccups. "Az, don't leave me! Mum's gone, Dad's gone, you're the only family I have left..."

          Holy broccoli. Did I just say that?

          Out loud?

          OMG, this whole grieving thingy has made my stupid feelings come out and made me go all melodramatic...

          "Az!" I cried, flinging my arms around his neck. "I love you. You're the sweetest dog ever..."

          F**k. How do I control my mouth?

          In the end, I just hugged him tight even when his breathing became shallow. And with a shuddering gasp, Az died on my arms.

          I wasn't even aware I was freely crying until I realized Az's fur was damp with my tears.

          He was gone.

          "Oh, Az..."

s v s

          I don't know how I sat there, cradling Az in my arms. Long enough probably for Xavier and Ethan to rescue Sally and Simon because, unless my ears are deceiving me, they were calling my name outside.

          Simon: "We were ambushed just as we were preparing to leave. The dog saved us by barking and calling attention to himself before running, and some of the zombies left to chase him when he ran. I don't know where he ended up, though..."

          Xavier: "Maybe Hazel found him. Hazel! Where are you?"

          Simon: "We should check more the other doors. She's probably there..."

          Sally: "Oh, poor dear. I hope she isn't lost and her poor dog is okay..."

          Ethan: "Hey, little idiot, we're going to leave with or without you!  We have no time for hide and seek! (To somebody else) Did you check the trash bins? She's probably there..."

          I might have been tempted to hide in the storeroom forever, but listening to Ethan's insulting call, a scowl turned up on my lips and I lowered Az to the ground, my mind clicking to choose from several sarcastic remarks that popped into my head. I then stood up, tossed my mane of balck-blue hair over my shoulders, straightened my back, and yelled, "Here!"

          Thundering steps soon followed, and I watched as they made their way towards me, only halting at the very last second to gape slack-jawed at the view behind me.

          "Picturesque, isn't it?" I said wryly to the new audience. "Welcome to the morgue."

          Ignoring the pile of bodies behind me, I knelt beside Az and heaved his dead body up. No way is he going to be left here with these carcasses the zombie had stored up. He deserves more than that.

          I was nearly out of the storeroom when Ethan blocked my path. "I don't have time for a battle of wits, Ethan," I said heavily.

          But when I actually looked up, there was no smirk on his face. He actually looked sober. "Let me carry him," he said seriously.

          Speechless, I handed Az to him, and he easily carried the Siberian Husky. "Where?" he asked simply.

          Still mute, I pointed to the faculty room.

          Ethan led the way, me staring dumbly at his back. What the f? Am I in some kind of opposite universe?

          He laid Az on top of a table in the faculty room I have seen earlier, his slender fingers stroking Az's muzzle. I watched them, quiet and immobilized.

          Is the boy in there really Ethan? Or is he some kind of a doppelganger? Oh my God. What if he is?

          Don't be stupid Hazel, the nasty voice in my head said. There are no such things as doppelgangers.

          Well, excuse me, I retorted back in my head. I'm clouded by grief. Who cares if my I.Q. right now is low?

          Excuses, excuses, the nasty voice grumbled.

          "Thank you buddy," Ethan whispered before turning towards me looking all unreadable with no grin on his face. This is actually creepy, I thought. With no smirk on his face, Ethan actually looked like a stranger to me. A hot stranger, I can't help adding as I eyed his butt while he exited the room.

          Focus! I snapped to myself. Az dead, remember? You can't just go through denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance, hope, and lusting already! Psychologically speaking, there's something wrong with your brain.

          I hastily went to the table and looked sorrowfully at Az. I don't know what to say to him.  I want to thank him for the times he saved my life, but now that he's dead, I don't know how to repay him.

          Then a brilliant idea struck me. I could tell him a confession of secrets I kept from him! The priest in our parish (when I do actually go to our church) said that the dead watch over us. So they probably listen too.

          I cleared my throat. "Well, Az," I said, looking shame-faced, "Remember the antique vase I told dad you broke during my fifteenth birthday? That was actually me. I invited my friends to have a party at our house, you know, since my 'rents were out. And one of my friends, Barbara, accidentally knocked it while she was searching for places to barf on and her elbow..."I grimaced. "So technically, it wasn't my fault, it was Barbara's, but well, I blamed you, so just so you know..."

          "There was also this time when I told Mum you ripped one of my clothes so she'll just replace it with something new...I mean, that was totally so last year! I would totally be the laughingstock of the whole school if I wear it..."

          "I'm sorry if I starved you when Mum didn't give you dinner because I told her you ate my supper. The food was totally good! But Mum was punishing me for being called on the principal's office because I have a fistfight with this jock and Mum told me I will only have one helping of my favorite food. I mean, how cruel is that? So I have to make some blatant lie to have a second helping of that delicious, mouthwatering..."

          "I was actually planning on naming you Hitler. But dad was horrified I named you after a terrorist, so I have to change it..."

          "Remember the time when I have to smack you because you bit my jerk boyfriend, Ash, back on when we're still dating? I actually commanded you to bite him, but Ash was planning to sue, so I have to show him how apologetic I am. But I gave you some part of my breakfast the next day, so I probably don't need to apologize..."

          "I was actually tempted to buy that bulldog in the cage next to yours, but I changed my mind at the last second..."

          "I fed you once spoiled food because there was nothing left of food at dinner and there was this last week's beef jerky..."

          It almost took me seven minutes before I finished. When I at last told him all my secrets, my mouth was dry, but my conscience was clean. Huh. Guess confession does help the soul. Who would have guessed?

          I petted Az the last time and went out to find the others. I almost have to the whole store before I found them at the food section of the convenient store, storing what looked like several cans of sardines and many packets of dried fruit.

          >Another tip if you're living the Apocalypse: Pick foods with preservatives. Those which don’t are already rotting away due to bacteria or fungi.

          They all looked up when I approached their faces somber and full of sympathy. Ethan must have told them. Quietly, I opened my bag and helped them store up our food supply and it wasn't long before my backpack was half-full. "I'm going to get some water bottles," I announced before walking away.

          I heard footsteps following me but I didn't look back until I reached an aisle full of water bottles. I started storing up.

          "Hey, you okay?" Xavier asked behind me, his hands stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans.

          I flashed him a smile. "I'm fine."

          Silence descended, only broken by the 'ping' sound of the water bottles colliding as I jostled them in my pack. He shifted on his feet, looking uncertain.

          "I'm sorry for your loss," he finally blurted, and I paused, my hand freezing on the process of reaching for another bottle. Nothing was wrong with what he said exactly, but...it was so formal. Automatic. Like what you would say to a stranger in a funeral. I mean, not that Xavier and I were close and so intimate he should say much more than that to comfort me, something heartfelt, but...I shook my head. What was wrong with me? Xavier looked sweet, standing there looking lost like his favorite toy had been taken away.

          I grabbed the water bottle and dropped it on my bag, turning round as I did it. I zipped it shut and slung it on my shoulder as I grinned at Xavier. "What are you sorry for? It’s not your fault."

          He smiled back, relieved. "Come on," I told him, hitching my bag higher and grabbing his hand. "Let's go check on Bree and Dana."

          The sky was dark when we went outside, and I shivered, missing the safety feeling Az brought with him when he was alive. It was as if a piece of me went missing--the security I felt that however bad the situation may be, Az will be always there to save my a*s. Now he was gone, the only people I have left were the annoying Ethan, the motherly Sally, the overprotective Simon, the brain dead twins and my-boyfriend-or-may-not-be-my-boyfriend Xavier.

          I wondered how long it will be before I lost them too.

CHApTer eiGHT: Mr. lollipop

          The headlights of the car was the only light in the darkness of the night, revealing a cobbled road, a row of trees and red eyes peeping from the forest now and then, the animals making their presence known.

          Or were they really animals? They could be...

          Shut up, brain! I commanded it. I don't need any more of your paranoia.

          I looked at my comrades, several of them already sleeping. The only ones left awake were Simon, who was driving, Ethan, who looked distant and far away and of course, yours truly. I looked across to him. "Ethan?"

          "Out of my mind," he replied. "Please leave a message."

          I hid a grin. Not so distant, after all.

          "Why were you nice to me earlier?" I asked him, when his green eyes--turning emerald in the dark--turned to look at me. His dark hair was heavily mussed by the wind coming from the half-opened window behind him, and I shivered in its cool caress.

          He smirked. If he keeps doing that, I'll start believing that if I look up the word 'smirk' in the dictionary, I'll see Ethan's face plastered on it. I'm just saying.

          "Glad you even know the meaning of the word."

          I scowled at him. I wouldn't say it out loud, but nice-Ethan-Blake kind of unsettles me. Like when a particularly poisonous hairy spider turns into a harmless, beautiful butterfly. Know what I mean? It’s like you can't help thinking that maybe an UFO with the green-eyed aliens brainwashed him.

          "Fine," I said. "Act dumb and stupid about it, like you don't know. But we both know that I know that you know what I'm talking about."

          "Yeah," he said dryly. "Keep insulting me because you are very smart. You have a brain you never used."

          I growled. "If Moses has seen your face," I shot back, "There would have been another commandment."

          "Yeah," he agreed. "Thou shall not be envious of the handsome-looking people."

          Since insulting his physical appearance didn't seem to work, I tried another tactic. Insulting his intelligence. I'm pretty sure he's dumb anyway. "If you ever had a bright idea," I said, "It would be beginner's luck!"

          "And calling you an idiot," he retorted, "would be an insult to all the stupid people."

          "You're the one to talk," I hissed. "I know for a fact that Mother Nature really hates you because you remind her so much of all her mistakes!"

          "I think of you when I'm lonely, Hazel," he said to me confidentially. Before I could rear back in shock, he added, "Then I'm content to be alone."

          My cheeks flushed. "We all sprang from apes," I said furiously, "but you didn't spring far enough!"

          "You must have a low opinion of people," he drawled, "If you think they're your equals. Really, Hazel, you're more ape-like than I am."

          "Hah!" I scoffed. "I researched your entire family tree, and it seems you were the sap!"

          "'Research'? I'm surprised you even know the word. For what you are lacking in intelligence, you more than make up for stupidity," he fired back.

          I snarled. "Kiss my a*s!"

          "Children!" Simon scolded, and we both looked at him, breathing hard. The air throbbed between me and Ethan, crackling with intensity. We were so fired up we didn't realize we weren't the only people in the room. Or in the car, for that matter. Well, that is, until Simon intervened. "You're waking the others," he warned.

          Ethan and I looked at the stirring Xavier and Sally, and realized that he was right. We both leaned back on our seats, trying to even out our unsteady breathing.

          "You know," remarked Ethan later, after we composed ourselves enough to talk like civilized people, "Life is all about a*s. You're either covering it, laughing it off, kicking it, kissing it, busting it, or trying to get a piece of it. Funny, that."

          My brows furrowed for a moment, then I realized he was talking about my last comment to him before Simon finally managed to shut us both up.

          "Remember the 50-50-90 rule," I said teasingly. "Anytime you have a 50-50 chance of getting something right, there's a 90% probability you'll get it wrong."

          He smiled, and silence descended, both of us looking out the windows. "You know," Ethan said, "I may regret saying this, but you're okay, Williams. A little stubborn, but okay."

          I grinned at him. "You're alright too, Blake. I'll probably take it back later, but it’s the truth." I hesitated, then offered him my hand. "Truce?"

          He smiled at me, then shook it. "Truce."

          "Finally," Simon sighed on the front. "The bloody World War III has ended."

s v s

          Morning came and went, and by mid-afternoon, we found ourselves swimming at a river bank, finally cleaning ourselves. I, for one, threw all my modesty to the wind and dumped myself on the clean water, crying in delight as the water slid over my dirt-encrusted skin. Bree and Dana were bathing beside me, splashing each other with water. Sally was scrubbing herself furiously beside us, a smile on her wrinkled face. Simon and the other two boys were a few feet away, giving us the illusion of privacy. I can't remember the last time I ever took a bath. Az would have liked this.

          Oh, Az.

          I smoothened the tangles in my hair, braiding it after I was sure it was as clean as it could be, without shampoo. Then I started on my face and body, rubbing the dirt away. By the time I waded to my backpack by the side of the river and pulled on new clothes, my skin was red with friction, and I never felt as fresh as I did now in my whole lifetime. Since I was the first one to resurface, I took the time to clean my weapons and check how much fresh clothes I have left. Huh. Two t-shirts and jeans, with three pairs of underwear with bras. I really need to stock up. I stuffed back all my things in my bag and stood up, noting that others started to get out of the water as well.

          "I'll wait on the car," I announced to them, then made my way to the SUV parked on the road, its black paint glinting in the sun. I opened the car door and slid inside, closing it quietly behind me. I rested my head on the headrest, closing my eyes. I had spent now four days with these people, today being the fifth. I don't know if it only brought me more harm than good. On the other hand, I have now companions and a car. But it cost me too high--Az had died. Now that I think about it, what had they given to me, really? I saved Bree and Dana's lives, and Az had been killed trying to save Simon and Sally from the zombies.

          But what had I received back in return from my (call me greedy, or selfish, but whatever) generosity? Their companionship isn't near enough in paying the price.

          "Hazel?"

          I opened my eyes. Bree was looking uncertainly at me, her cornflower blue eyes darting towards me and away again.

          "What is it?" I asked her, since she looked a lot like a deer caught in the headlights of an incoming car. Shooting me another hesitant look, she climbed all the way into the car and closed the door. I looked at her, expectant.

          "I just want to say thank you for saving me and my sister from the zombies a few days ago," she blurted out.

          I squirmed guiltily. And here I was just thinking that they're all deadweight. "It's no big deal," I said quickly.

          Bree looked at me seriously. "It IS a big deal. You risked your life for us, doing karate chops to the zombies and being all cool-like about it. I was like, "Ohmygosh, this bad creature is about to eat us!" and you were like, "Feel my fists of fury, you cannibalistic a*****e!", and even though Dana and I were sobbing like babies, you were all "Stand tall and never show fear," like Nina Dobrev in Vampire Diaries even though Klaus was like, about to kill her and Bonnie has like, a minute to save her, they still do it, and I really love how Nina dresses, even though she doesn't wear pink and I love pink, and...," she blushed. "I'm sorry to what happened to your dog."

          I sighed. Did Ethan have to tell everyone about Az?

          "Well yeah," I admitted, "I'm sorry for losing him too."

          "He's a good dog," she offered.

          "He is," I agreed.

          Awkward silence descended. Bree fidgeted and I looked out the window, pretending to be engrossed at the starting-to-wither-trees. I looked at a tiny squirrel scurrying the branch of a...Who cares about the names of the trees anyway? Who gives a damn?

          "I have a pet dog too," Bree suddenly said, and and as I looked at her, her blue eyes were fixed determinedly at the clasped hands in her lap. "I left it at home."

          "What's her name?" I asked curiously.

          "Her?" she asked, puzzled. "It’s a he."

          I blushed. Bree was so girly I thought everything she owned was feminine. Ah well. Never let it be known that I was a sensitive person. "What's his name then?"

          "He's Mr. Lollipop," she said, expression turning dreamy. "A Chihuahua."

          "Mr. Lollipop," I said, straight-faced. "That's a beautiful name."

          "It is, isn't it?" she asked brightly. "He's such a cute dog too."

          I'll bet, I thought. He's probably decorated with ribbons too.

          "So what happened?" I asked, trying to be gentle. And quickly failing. Not that I have anything against dumb blondes, but...could they at least find time to read books instead of practicing daily their cheerleading skills?

          Her radiant expression clouded. "He got eaten by a zombie."

          "But how did the zombie got inside your house?"

          Bree twisted her fingers. I could see that she was uncomfortable telling someone her own story but though I should probably say "It’s okay, you don't have to tell me," I couldn't force the words out of my mouth. Aside from the fact that it’s NOT totally true, maybe it would do Bree some good to share it with someone. Even if that someone was more interested about the strategy the zombie used to get into a very well guarded house (just by looking at their designer clothes, I could see that the two sisters are rich. Besides, even if they weren't wearing matching scarves from D and G's, everybody knows that cheerleaders = rich).

          "Dana and I were having a party," she explained, her eyes shimmering a little. "Daddy and Mommy gave us permission, so we did. It was a full blown party--you know, very..." Her eyebrows scrunched into a thoughtful look. "What's the word?"

          "Wild?" I suggested helpfully.

          The crease in her forehead cleared. "Yeah," she agreed, relieved. "Wild. We have a lot of booze, and the music was loud. It was terrif. I was like, dancing everywhere, and the pool was flowing over. I mean, overflowing. It’s overflowing, right?"

          "Yes," I said dryly.

          "And then suddenly, one of my classmates--he was hooking up with one of my friends, which I think was romantic because, my friend has a crush on him, for like, forever, even though he has a girlfriend already, but it’s so cool, like in the movie 13 going 30, when Matt already had a girlfriend, but their love is so intense that they make it work, going back to the past with that super cute dollhouse--I just love the color, by the way--and the glitters, when they shake it. So yeah, they were kissing,  and this guy, he just started behaving strangely! I mean, he bit Kelly! And not just those nibbles and love bites couples give each other, but a real bite! He made Kelly bleed. And then he started snarling at people and even managing to bite Kelly again before some of the guys held him off. That was super heroic of them, by the way. Don't you think they're heroic?"

          "Yeah, Bree," I said, sarcasm practically dripping to the ground.

          "I know," she nodded knowingly. "They're like, risking their life for the girls' safety, which is very Jackish, like you know, Jack in the Titanic--I'm a super fan of him--and he calmed down a little, so they let him go. And the next thing you know, he was chewing Mr. Lollipop!"

          And Bree burst into tears.

          Not those tears that have snot with them and make you look like a red tomato afterwards, but the kind of tears that slowly leak into your eyes and you wipe it by a delicate brush of your fingers.

          Cheerleader through and through, I can't help thinking.

          Bree sniffled. "We buried Mr. Lollipop right then and there, but it was so awful! He was torn into pieces and--" Bree wiped another teardrop that trickled down her cheek--"there was blood everywhere and Kelly was screaming! I mean, I knew I should call 911 on her, but I felt so sorry for Mr. Lollipop and I knew we could take care of her later anyway. So we buried Mr. Lollipop under Mommy's garden and I finally called the paramedics to take care of Kelly."

          "Of course," she added, "my effort was totally wasted since Kelly went zombie afterwards. But I figured, you know, I should be a good friend and at least call 911."

          "So what you're saying," I summarized, "is that someone bit your FRIEND, but since the zombie ATE your dog who is already DEAD and is probably chasing butterflies in heaven unlike your FRIEND who is probably in extreme PAIN, you buried your DOG first beneath your Mummy's precious red roses in your backyard before calling for help for your WOUNDED friend, who might die. And when you DID call for 911, you REGRETTED it because your friend would just turn zombie afterwards anyway, which is completely not HER fault because its that guy who bit her made her into what she is. Did I get the gist of that story alright?"

          Bree frowned. "We didn't bury Mr. Lollipop under Mommy's roses," she said. "Its under her beloved gardenias."

          I dropped my head into my hands. "You're really a blond at heart," I said, voice muffled.

          "What?" Bree asked, sounding baffled. "My heart isn't blond."

          I groaned.

s v s

          The next day, we traveled again, only stopping at a nearby house because Dana was about to 'pee'. Then we continued our journey towards north, passing several crumbling buildings along the way. Once, a zombie saw us and gave chase, but since a car could be relatively faster if it wanted to, we easily outran him.

          As we traveled, we learned more and more about each other. I learned that Simon was once divorced because of an intense argument that happened between him and his wife. He was also an architect but admitted that his boss had fired him after being absent for a couple of days because of what happened between his wife and him. He has no children to speak of, and only managed to have a few friends. To my surprise, Sally and Simon have an ongoing relationship to the days they spent together in the Apocalypse, and they confessed of being in love with eachother. Fortunately, Sally wasn't a married woman, so they were free to become lovers.

          Ethan had looked at Xavier and Simon and proclaimed, "Why, I'm the only still available man left," and promptly sang 'Where is the love' by Black-eyed peas. Bree and Dana, also realizing the two of them were the only single women left, doubled their efforts at flirting, much to the chagrin of Ethan.

          And if you were wondering what happened between me and Ethan after are so-called 'truce', well, though I can't say we became best buddies and braided each other’s hair (and I mean this figuratively) I can also say we've been both more or less civil to one another and though both of us are still smartass to each other, well, at least we're not threatening each other anymore with physical violence.

          A big step, right?

CHApTer NinE: Ghost town

          "Kids in the backseat cause accidents; accidents in the backseat cause kids. Try to remember that."

          Xavier and I broke away from kissing, and as if rehearsed, both sighed a not-this-again sigh. Ethan stood grinning at us from the doorframe of the passenger seat, his arms crossed on his chest and his frame leaning decidedly relaxed at the doorframe.

          I glared at him and said sarcastically, "You want some popcorn with that?"

          "Sure," he agreed easily. "You got some?"

          "No," I replied. "But I have this."

          Then I shot him the finger.

          Ethan laughed, slid inside the car and sat , before finally closing the car door behind him.

          "That's Sally's place," I reminded him.

          "She's still isn't here," he countered back.

          It was true. Sally, Simon, Bree and Dana had gone outside to scout an abandoned-looking house for food, and Xavier and I were left out to guard the car. Ethan had gone out with them, but the house must have been empty of zombies if he came back here so quickly.

          It was noon, the sun on its peak. This is the eight day I had spent amongst people and I must admit, it wasn't really as bad as I had first thought. If I were honest with myself, I actually had fun being with them. Simon was like the fatherly figure all of us had craved since losing our own parents, and Sally was the motherly figure, with her warm and caring personality, not to mention the protective streak she has sometimes. Bree and Dana, though they could be total airhead sometimes, was actually fun to be with. They both have the innocence of a young child, and the optimism of a happy-go-lucky gal. Ethan--bless his devilish soul--though he could make your blood boil to 360 degrees, could break the tension in the air faster than anyone by his wisecracks and witty remarks. Xavier, my sweet and adoring boyfriend, was devoted and warm and so good to me that I felt (sometimes) unworthy of his undying and unconditional love.

          Once, I tried to be Ms. Serene-and-Good-and-Innocent just to feel deserved of his love, but when I told him that if we might survive the Apocalypse, I'll build the new Peace corps coven where we'll all be peaceful and earth-loving in the Himalaya mountains, he just looked at me strangely and said, "Where is my girlfriend and what have you done to her?"

          So I just kind of gave up after that. It won't work out anyway. Some will say "Pen is mightier than the sword." Me? "What are you? Cavemen? There's nuclear bombs for everybody, y'all!"

          So yeah. Me and Amity? Not so great together.

          "Why do you keep interrupting when we're kissing?"I complained to Ethan.

          "Because its gross," he said, stretching his long legs in front of him and propping them in the dashboard, ankles crossed. He looked sideways at me, and one lock of that dark hair fell on his eye. He irritatedly brushed it away. "If you want to hook up," he told me, "Find a place people can't see you and puke."

          "If I told you I have a piece of dirt in my eye, would you move?" I said, glaring at him.

          "Touché," he replied, grinning.

          Xavier rolled his eyes at us. "I'll check up on them," he told me, getting out and slamming the door.

          "Ooooh," Ethan said. "Someone's mad."

          "No wonder," I said. "Everytime you appear, you piss someone off."

          "Chaos, disorder, hate--my work here is done," Ethan said, tipping his head with a wink at me.

          "If we were to kill everybody who hates you," I sighed, "It wouldn't be murder; it would be genocide."

          He shrugged carelessly. He smirked. "I think I have a nuclear bomb hidden here somewhere."

          I rolled my eyes and stretched on the backseat, my back pressed on the leather cover and my eyes raised to the car ceiling. "Why do I even bother talking to you?" I wondered, asking no one in particular.

          "Because I'm a lady-killer?" Ethan grinned.

          I snorted. "Yeah. They take one look at you and die of shock."

          He laughed. "Did I ever told you your eyes remind me of the Caribbean?" he suddenly said, making me blink.

          He's teasing, I realized. He must be.

          "And did I ever tell you," I said right back, "that your eyes remind me of fungi?"

          He laughed again, and I relaxed. He WAS teasing. Really, I should have known better.

          I mean, he was indeed teasing, right?

          Right?

s v s

          "Hazel, wake up!" A voice whispered urgently in my ear, and I bolted awake, eyes alert and wild.

          "WHAT? What is it?" I half-yelled, alarmed.

          From my far right side, Ethan laughed softly under his breath. Xavier smiled apologetically at me. "Nothing's happening yet," he said, voice low. "But Simon told us to be ready to flee or fight at any second. He's uneasy about something."

          "Oh," I said, glad we weren't apparently being attacked. I looked out the window, and to my surprise, I couldn't see anything. Fog clouded the stars and the moon, swallowing us in its creepy white tendrils and preventing us from seeing anything. I unsheathed one of my daggers, a shiver trickling down my spine. I couldn't blame Simon, even my instincts were telling me something about this was...off.

          I knew we shouldn't travel at night. I just knew it! If Az was here, he'd be growling like crazy. Even I could feel the danger lurking in here.

          Simon had lowered the speed down to forty kilometers an hour, his eyes darting back and fro, hoping the car wasn't going to collide into anything, considering we can't see a thing apart from the fog. Tension sizzled in the air, and I clutched my dagger tighter, eyes squinting at the foggy scenery outside.

          We stayed like that for what seemed like forever and only relaxed once the fog was all gone and we could see our surrounding once more. I realized we were actually in a small town, the houses small and old, the stores labeled like Grace's Bread shop and Albert's Diner. It was the perfect scenery for a ghost town. Eerie and sinister.

          Simon relaxed his grip on the steering wheel a bit. Exhales and nervous giggles from Bree and Dana proved that they weren't quite recovered from their last experience with the two zombies like we thought them to be. Xavier lowered the shotgun he was holding and smiled.

          "You ruined my perfectly good sleep for this?" I grumbled to Xavier who shrugged and smiled in apology.

          "Sorry for that," Simon said, turning to look at us. "I was sure I saw something move. Getting old I guess. It must be a false ala--"

          And the zombies attacked.

s v s

          "Holy f*****g angels in the holy freaking heaven," Ethan said. "We're surrounded."

          And he was right.

          Two zombies landed on the hood of the car, six surrounded us from side to side, and one was pounding its fists on the rear, trying to break the glass.

          Guess I'll be meeting St. Peter sooner than I thought.

          Bree and Dana screamed. The two zombies on front opened their jaws wide, yellowish drool dripping from their mouth. Veins can be seen just under their yellow, graying, rotten saggy skin, and clumps of matted hair framed their faces like clumps of seaweed. Red eyes flashed in the darkness, and even though all windows were closed shut (thankfully), I can still hear their chorus of Grudge-keening. Goosebumps covered my arms, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I may be a zombie-killer for three years, but neither Az and I encountered something like this.

          Beyond the six zombies pounding on my side of the door, I could see several of them more, crying for our flesh.

          The whole town was a freaking zombie territory.

          A crack sounded on my right, and I whipped my head around, shock rippling through me as I saw a jagged line zigzagging on Ethan's window. Ethan stuck his tongue out at the raving zombies before scrabbling backwards. Dana and Bree were both repeating again and again, as if in prayer, "We're going to die...we're going to die...we're going to die..."

          And my side of the window shattered.

          I ducked and covered my head, pieces of glass cutting my flesh. At the scent of my blood, the zombies screamed, pushing one another to get inside the broken window. I could hear Xavier shooting at them, Bree and Dana yelling, Simon shouting at them to calm down, and Ethan grabbing my bag, and me pulling it from him.

          "What do you think you're doing?" I screamed at Ethan, my voice lost in the sea of chaos. A zombie arm snaked around my neck, and my grip on the bag loosened. I punched the zombie suffocating me, ruining my concentration, and with a final tug, Ethan got the bag.

          With a yell of frustration, I ducked again, to avoid being shot by Xavier who was firing at the zombies as if his life depended on it. Which actually is true.

          Then he ran out of ammunition.

          "Crap!" he swore, his hands busy trying to open the breach and insert a new shell of ammunition, a time consuming activity. I don't even know many magazine tubes he has left.  He can't keep firing forever. Bree screamed. "Behind you!"

          I turned around, and saw that two zombies were halfway inside the car already, jaws snapping. I pulled my feet towards my stomach and kicked.  My boots hit both of their faces, pushing them out of the car. More zombies scrambled to replace their fallen comrades.

          "All of you duck!" I heard Ethan shout.

          Instinctively, we all obeyed, and Ethan threw something out of the window. An explosion rocked the car, and I heard several zombies scream in agony. Holy s**t. Ethan must have grabbed a grenade from my bag and threw it.

          "We have to get out of the car!" Simon said and I opened the car door, shielding my eyes from the radiance of the fire as it torched several zombies around us, scattering as they panicked. Some must have caught some fire from the explosion, and spread it.

          "Burn, you sad b******s!" Ethan shouted.

          I couldn't agree more.

          Xavier was trying to calm the twins who both looked like they were hyperventilating. Ethan tossed me my bag after he pulled out his own shotgun.

          I pulled my own, sheathing my dagger back to my boots. I checked the clip, and satisfied it was full, I pulled the shotgun tight to my shoulder and sighted. The zombies were running around in different directions, trying to put out the flames engulfing them. But some of them had already given up trying to put out the fire and instead rushed towards us, making that awful Grudge-keening sound. Guts of zombie the grenade had successfully exploded littered the street like confetti.

          I fired, bullet after bullet, at the advancing zombies. But, they're like, infinite. Sooner than I had liked, I ran out of ammunition, and I was just deciding to throw out my last grenade when I heard Simon shout, "In here!"

          I looked behind me, and saw that Simon was opening a steel door of some building a few blocks away, Dana and Bree already scrambling on their feet to enter. I snapped the safety on, and ran towards them, Xavier in front of me and Ethan following after me.

          I could hear zombies racing after us, and Ethan stopping at intervals to shoot at them. But I knew that we were too late. Zombies are superfast creatures and despite the fact that we have an early running start, we could never outrun them. I was about to shout to Simon to just close the door (because I'm a selfless, self-sacrificing idiot) and just forget about us when Xavier grabbed my hand and pulled me forward to run beside him.

          "Go go go!" he shouted.

          I ran like I never had ran before, pushing my feet to their limit. I could feel the zombies getting closer and closer. A meter away...

          "Inside! Simon yelled, holding the door wide open. Xavier and I went inside, and Simon closed the door just in time as five seconds after, bodies thumped on the door, struggling to get in. Then I remembered--"Wait!" I screamed. "Ethan's still outside!"

          As if on cue, a muffled scream sounded outside, cut off by the keening of about two dozen zombies.

CHApTer Ten:turning into a popsicle

          "Let me go!" I shouted furiously to Xavier and Simon who both have grabbed my arms the second I took a step forwards towards the door.

          "He's dead, Hazel," Xavier said to me, his eyes sad. "If you could just think clearly for a moment, you'll see that."

          "HE IS NOT DEAD!" I screamed, doubling my struggle against them. Bree and Dana were crying on the bottom of a staircase leading upwards, Sally engulfing them in a warm hug. You know, I don't even know why I'm struggling. He's an obnoxious, arrogant jerk-faced dickhead who annoyed the life out of me. But yet, here I am, struggling like Tommy in Never Let Me Go, only more insane and wild-looking. (You should watch that movie. Charlie Rowe? So HOT.)

          "He can't be dead!" I yelled, to no one in particular. "No one's supposed to kill him except me! F**k zombies! He isn't dead!" To my everlasting and eternal embarrassment, tears trickled down my cheeks and I started to sniffle. Xavier and Simon must have noticed me already starting to calm down (If crying is ever considered as calm) because they let me go. Wrapping an arm around my waist, Xavier pulled me to him, his head resting on top of mine. He was making this little cooing noises and if it was any day but today, I would have giggled. But today? I have to get all the comfort he could give.

          When I composed myself enough and convinced Xavier and Simon that A) I wouldn't rush towards the door in hope of saving Ethan and B) I wouldn't go homicidal maniac on them.

          I can't blame them, really.

          We trooped up the stairs, Simon taking the lead and Xavier in the rear. Simon was holding Sally's hand, Bree and Dana were clutching each other and me and my shotgun tense and ready. I might not be able to save Ethan, but at least I can kill some son-of-a-b***h zombies. Forget Hazel Williams the zombie-killer. I'm Hazel Williams the Avenger now.

          And I really need to kick some zombie butt.

          We continued our trip up the stairs, climbing until we reached a corridor. The building must have been a municipal hall some years ago, because the hall was filled with offices and political titles written on gold plaques outside their doors. We stopped at the top of the stairs, looking around. Dust had settled on the furniture, and rats scurried away, looking thin and sickly. Except for them, the place looked bare and empty.

          But we scouted it out anyway.

          Xavier and I went to check the east wing, and the other four went to scout west, since the stairs led us to opposite corridors. When we met together again, Simon signaled that they haven't met any zombies. I said we didn't either.

          And since there were zombies outside, Xavier had suggested to take shelter here and wait for the day. If I was ever asked for my suggestion, I would have said to stay here forever. I didn't want to go outside and find Ethan's remains. I'd prefer not to go out at all.

          But no one asked for my opinion, so I kept my mouth shut. I need to face Ethan's death someday anyway. Might as well be tomorrow.

          I didn't sleep well, if you haven't already guessed. Conscience disturbing me, I suppose. After all, Ethan had saved my life once, despite me being a total stranger. I knew him, and I still didn't saved his. It must be survivor's guilt. Over the years, I felt a lot of those. Being a trouble-maker means you have a lot of enemies. Like cops. Once, a classmate of mine had dared me to steal an expensive bracelet from the mall. I was never the one to back up from challenges, especially nasty ones, so despite the warning of my best friend that time, Rayne, I still did it, and unaware that my classmate pulled a prank on me and called a guard, got caught doing it in the act.

          But not enough for me not to slip it on my best friend’s pocket and blink innocently when the guard finally arrived. Rayne was arrested and got suspended from school for two weeks, and when she came back, she didn't speak to me again. I tried to apologize, but she wouldn't hear any of it. Who can blame her, really? I USED her. Despite her being a close friend and all.

          Being an only child, I was spoiled.

          Attention always on me, and whenever I want something, I usually get it. Th first time I went to school, I was annoyed at the popular girls wrinkling their nose at me as if I was something stuck on their shoe. Not liking their treatment, I pinched one of them (Hey, I was young) and became satisfied when she cried, bawling and crying for her mommy. After that, my fellow classmates began noticing me, respecting me. They lent me their crayons when asked, invited me to their birthdays, and asked for my opinion on things. I had liked the spotlight. Ms. Center-of-Attention. I never realized I was a bully back then, but when I started growing up, I became aware of what exactly I was. But instead of being ashamed at the discovery, I basked on it. Everyone following my orders, and though there were a few loose ends (like the classmate who pranked on me) they were usually easy to convince.

          Yes, I was self-centered. Yes, I was selfish. I couldn't deny these things, but I couldn't change them either. It was too much a part of me.

          I glanced at Xavier, sleeping at my side. I knew, deep in my gut, that I'll abandon him if it meant risking my life. I was never the noble hero. Despite all the insults I had thrown at Ethan, I couldn't deny the fact that yes, he was far more heroic than I ever was, and ever will be.

s v s

          We all woke up at dawn, and after cleaning our things and stuffing ourselves with weapons we casually went down, cautious and alert.

          In no time, we were all standing at the door, hesitating whether its safe to open it. "Well," Simon said nervously, hand twitching, "We couldn't stay here forever."

          Bree and Dana groped for each other’s hand and held it. The grip on my shotgun tightened. Simon took a deep breath, waited a beat, then turned on the knob.

          We all held our breath as the door swung open, revealing a still dark sky, empty street, and no zombies. My eyes raked the ground. No Ethan bits either.

          I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding back. "Thank goodness," said Sally. "Hopefully the car would still be able to drive."

          When Simon started the engine, after we found out there were no zombies hanging to eat us and made a dash towards the car, it sputtered and the whole car revved to life. A smile broke out of Simon's face, making him look several years younger. Tension leaked out of him, and his body relaxed. "Whew," he chuckled, caressing the car as if a long lost love child. "I thought for a minute it wouldn't start."

          We got in, and as Simon drove out of the creepy town, he swore to never go through small towns again. I grabbed my iPod from the bag and stuffed the earphones in my ears, increasing the sound and picking one of its more gothic songs. When I got in the car, something felt wrong and off to me. It took a few moments to figure out what it is. And when I did, it made my whole mood sag and moody.

          I never realized I liked Ethan and our constant banter until I missed it. I never realized I have loved his sarcastic and witty remarks until now. Until they were gone.

          I stared out the window, feeling gloomy.

s v s

          Our travel due north was constant, and as the temperature dropped and dropped and the climate got colder and colder, we got more fewer zombie surprises along the way. Soon, there were snow on the road, and the six of us were huddling in the car, shivering. Simon had started the heater in the car, but since the window were broken and others cracked, the warmth easily died out. In fact, I was wearing two t-shirts and was curled beside Xavier, trying to share his body heat. He was rubbing my hands, trying to warm them.

          We need to find shelter. Fast.

          Unfortunately, the universe must have thought its time to screw with me again because we found none.

          Nada. Zilch. Zero. Nothing.

          We were freezing inside a car in a who-knows-where wasteland. I could just see my gravestone.

Hazel Williams

April 23, 1998--Forgot the date today

Died not by zombie, but by Hypothermia

          Oh yeah, that's going to be intimidating if I suddenly become a hero someday. I was supposed to avenge Ethan's death, not turn into a Popsicle at a f*****g Siberia!

          Simon tried to start the car, but when he turned the key in the ignition, it just spluttered before dying down. The fuel must have been starting to turn into ice. We tried getting out, but with our thin clothing, we only shivered and stumbled before rushing back towards the car. We didn't get far always. the stretch of road seemed endless, and we tried surviving by putting things to cover the broken windows, but the cold sneaked its way in.

          We tried building a fire, but none of us knew how to. A day passed with us not finding a way out of our current situation, and soon, as time went and gone, we finally gave up and just snuggled together, hoping someone or something would rescue us.

          All of us were chattering inside the car, our lips turning blue. I can't believe it just all came to this. After two years of surviving! "F-f-f**k," I said. "What a-are w-we go-go-go-going to do?"

          No one answered. I knew it was a stupid question anyway. We were all alone in here, freezing and dying. Like Rose and Jack at the freaking Titanic. I couldn't feel my fingers. Much less my toes. Xavier was like a frozen statue around me, paralyzed by the cold.

          "T-t-talk about s-s-some...thing. A-a-a-any..." I swallowed then tried again. "A-a-any...thing. Plea-plea...se."

          Then, before the last word got out of my mouth, I was suddenly racked with waves of violent shivers. My limbs felt like slabs of cement. It was a wonder I could still remember.

          "I...I t-t-thought we're...su-supposed t-t-to b-b-b-be safe here i...n th-the co...ld," Xavier chattered, trying to obey my request. "I-I-Inste...ad, w-w-we d...ie."

          My shivers had stopped. That's good, right? I thought to myself, despite what I knew was true in my common sense. My body had shut down. That's why I couldn't feel anything. I'm so numb.

          My fingers were bluish white. My eyelids are drooping. I couldn't feel Xavier's warm breath anymore. He must be...gone. I knew I was supposed to panic, but I...I couldn't remember. The strands of my hair were covered with fine ice. I feel so disconnected with my body. Light.

          Help...A thought floated in my mind. Somebody...please...help...

          It was the last thing I remembered before the world went completely cold, dead, and black.

CHApTer Eleven: Ethan

          "Hazel? Hazel! Can you hear me? Ha--"

          "...damn. They look like statues, man."

          "Is she awake? Oh my God. Please let her be awake..."

          I came back to the world hearing a gabble of voices, the sound making my ears hurt. It felt like they were glued together...

          Then darkness dragged me under again.

s v s

          The next time I awoke, I could open my eyes effortlessly, although I still felt exhausted and hurting. F**k. It felt like all my limbs and body parts are aching, even my hair.

          I feel like s**t. Its even worse than a massive hung over. And that's bloody hell impossible.

          I was in an unfamiliar room, lying at a soft bed with a mound of blankets on top of me. Panic ensued, and I pushed off the heavy blankets, sitting straight and alert.

          "Looks like Sleeping Beauty is finally awake," a deep voice said from my left, unfamiliar.

          I turned to the person who spoke, an African man with a buzz cut and flashing white teeth.

          "Go easy on her, Mick," an amused voice to my right said, definitely familiar. Glinting emerald green eyes greeted mine as I whipped my head around the other direction. "Hazel was just getting her beauty sleep, and she needs all the help she can get."

          As the man--Mick--snickered, I looked, wide-eyed at Ethan. The quip fell off my mouth before I could stop them.

          "Then you must be about due for a coma."

          Mick laughed.

          Ethan arched a brow. "Careful. Or I might just regret saving you."

          "Why are you alive?" I blurted out.

          Ethan smirked. My heart tightened at the sight. "Resenting my existence already?"

          "No," I replied. "But somewhere out there is a tree, tirelessly producing oxygen so you can breathe. I think you owe it an apology."

          Ethan smiled and Mick guffawed.

          "You know," Ethan said, shaking his head, "You never fail to impress me. Here you are, days just after your brush with death, and you're already bantering with me. Quite a feat."

          Ethan's reply made me remember I wasn't alone inside the freezing car. I frowned. "Where's Xavier?" When Ethan and Mick remained quiet and just exchanged looks, panic started to weave its spell over me. "Where's Bree? Dana?" My panic increased a notch when they still kept silent. "Simon? Sally?"

          Ethan cleared his throat. "They're dead, Hazel."

          My vision blurred. Ethan took a step forward, concern etched on his face. I thought I'd never see the day that expression would come out of his features. Lucky me.

          "They can't be dead," I said, voice small. "I was there. And I'm still alive. They can't be dead."

          Mick, looking awkward, started walking backwards towards the door. "Uh," he said, smiling weakly, "I'll just be outside." He was already pulling the door before he even finished speaking.

          My eyes seeked Ethan's. "Tell me they're alive." My voice broke. "Please."

          He sat on the bed and pulled me close, just as tears streaked down my cheeks. "I can't," he whispered.

          I dropped my head on his chest. "No," I wailed. "They can't be dead."

          Ethan started stroking my hair. "But they are, Hazel," he said, voice quiet.

          "I'm alive," I argued, raising my head and swollen eyes to met his. "They should be alive too."

          His arms tightened. "You're alive because your body temperature just dropped low enough to preserve your body, Hazel. That's why you felt so numb. Your body prevented you from feeling any pain. Remember those children they fished out of the arctic rivers and miraculously still went back on being alive? That's why you're still alive, Hazel. You're a survivor. We're both survivors."

          "About that,” I sniffed, "How come you survived? You were like one soldier against an army."

          "Well," he drawled, "Would you believe me if I told you I suddenly developed superpowers and blasted them all?"

          I chuckled weakly. "Yeah, right."

          "Okay, fine. You don't obviously believe me." He paused. When he next spoke, his voice was wry. "Mick and Stella saved me, actually. You should have seen them. Both machine guns out, they fired at the zombies like hell was nipping on their heels. They were riding a motorcycle. They passed by me and picked me up. We were yelling like maniacs."

          I smiled at the image. "No doubt."

          Ethan lifted my chin with his hand. He examined my face. "You okay now?"

          I wiped my tears with the heel of my hand. "Yeah. Thanks."

          He stood up. "My pleasure." He offered me a hand. "You hungry? Stella's preparing breakfast downstairs."

          I took his hand and pulled myself up. "I'm starving. Let's go."

          We went down a wooden staircase, and the smell of fried eggs and bacon wafted on our direction. I sniffed and sighed dreamily. "Its been a long time since I had eaten anything but canned goods," I told Ethan.

          The kitchen was a modest one, with green tiled floor and white walls. It was unbelievably clean.

          A girl with curly brunette hair was standing behind a stove, a spatula clutched in her right hand. She turned around at the sound of our entrance. She smiled. "You're awake. Care for some breakfast? I'm Stella."

          I smiled back. Stella was pretty. "Thanks."

          Mick was sitting on the mahogany table, his head propped on his hand. He too, turned around when we entered.

          "Better?" he asked me.

          "Lots," I said, lifting the corners of my mouth.

          Ethan and I sat on the table, across from each other. We watched as Stella expertly tossed the egg in mid-air and quickly caught it. I turned to Mick.

          "Is Stella your girlfriend?" I asked, curious.

           A dreamy expression crossed his face, but Stella turned around and laughed as if it was the funniest thing she ever heard. "Me and Mick?" She shook her head. "We're just friends. Good friends, though." She winked at him before she turned back around to continue her cooking.

          Mick smiled at me, but his eyes looked sad. "Its true. Best of friends, that's us."

          I smiled back, sympathetic.

          When Stella finished cooking and laid all the food on the table, I dug in as if its now or never. Ethan watched me, amused. I just raised an eyebrow at him, daring at him to comment. He shook his head and returned back to eating, a smile curving his lips.

          When my belly was at last full and I had satisfied my hunger, I leaned back on my chair and watched them eat.

          "How did you find us? Me?" I asked, directing the question at Ethan since he was the one I knew who wouldn't sugarcoat things no matter how horrible. He stopped eating and chewed slowly, thoughtful.

          He swallowed and drank his water before he began talking. "It was just a coincidience, really. Mick and I had jut finished hunting for food when we came across the SUV. I recognized it, told Mick to pull over, and rushed towards it. We found the lot of you there, frozen like statues. It was scary. I could still see Bree and Dana clutching eachother, eyes wide open in death." His eyes looked haunted. "Xavier and you were embracing eachother, both of you didn't look alive. But when my hand passed accidentally under your nose--" In here, Ethan exchanged a meaningful look with Mick, the latter looking confused, "--I could still feel you breathing, shallow as it is." He grimaced. "We tried to tug you gently out of Xavier's arms, but he was holding you tight. There was no help for it. We have to break his arm."

          My jaw dropped.

          Ethan winced at my expression, but he bravely plunged on. "It was really quick. He was already ice, so we easily just snapped it, like a twig."

          My nausea rose.

          "Then, because your clothes were wet, we hurried off to go here and Stella stripped you naked to replace it with warm clothes. We were in the room, but we weren't looking. I promise," he added, seeing my look of pure horror.

          "After that, we placed you before a warm fire to thaw the ice a little. Stella suggested to engulf you in a warm bath, and we all agreed. I didn't get much more after that, since Stella took over and did all the healing. You slept for many days."

          "How many?"I croaked.

          He hesitated. "Six days," he finally said.

          My jaw snapped closed. I turned to Stella. "I need a drink."

          She frowned. "But you need to eat first--"

          "Now," I growled.

          She hastily complied.

          I was starting to wish I just died.

s v s

          Thirteen shots later, I kneeled in front of the toilet, Ethan holding my hair back. It was embarrassing to think of Ethan seeing me like this, but I have no choice. Stella was out with Mick, hunting for food. I don't know why they kept hunting for food; I saw earlier how many stacks of food were stored at the kitchen cabinets, and they were plenty enough to feed a small army.

          I heaved. Ethan kneaded my back to ease the pain. Minutes later, I stood at the sink, brushing my teeth. I was still drunk, and my head felt woozy. I have the grim realization that my heaving wasn't over yet. Not even close.

          After cleaning my mouth, I lurched towards the kitchen to drink some water. I found Ethan there, nursing a can of soda. He smirked when he saw me. "Feeling better?"

          I grabbed a glass, filled it with water at the brim, and swallowed it all in one gulp. "No."

          He shrugged. "Your fault. How could you drink that much anyway? Stella said you should quit drinking. Its bad for your health. Just think of how much that will harm your body." He smiled. "Her words, not mine."

          I pulled out a chair and dropped myself on it. "Tell her that sometimes when I reflect back on all the beer I drank I felt ashamed," I told him. "But then I look into the glass and think about the workers in the brewery and all their hopes and dreams. If I didn't drink this beer, they might be fired from work and their dreams would be shattered. Then I say to myself, 'Its better that I drink this beer and let their dreams come true than be selfish and worry about my liver.'"

          Ethan grinned wide. "You're actually sweet when you're drunk. Consider it a miracle as I couldn't say the same for everybody else."

          "Sweet is the last thing farthest from my mind right now," I replied. "I feel like s**t."

          "Good," he drawled. "You look like one."

          I groaned, tipped my head back and closed my eyes. Intense pain radiated from behind my eye sockets, and I vaguely heard Ethan stand up as his chair screeched backwards. Glasses tinkled as he moved about in the kitchen, and next thing I knew, he shook me, causing me to open my eyes. I glared at him. "Before you can snarl at me," he said, smirking, "Here. Drink this. And this."

          He thrusted into my hands a glass of tomato juice and a single tablet. I frowned at the orange pill. "That's full of Vitamin B," Ethan informed me, seeing my confusion. "It'll help. And the tomato juice too."

          I looked up at him, struck speechless. "What do you want?"

          He gave me a wicked smile. "Really, Hazel, I thought you knew better than to jump to conclusions."

          "With you," I said, sipping the tomato juice, "Some rules are forgotten. And its not just a guess, Ethan, it was a factual conclusion. So. What do you want?"

          He pretended to be impressed. "Wow. That's great news, Hazel. You can already see through my soul and we only knew each other for two weeks, including the days you spent recovering. It really boggles the mind."

          I grabbed his now empty soda can and threw it at him. Grinning wildly, he caught it one-handedly and settled it on the sink before turning to me, his green eyes glinting. "I didn't know you liked it rough, Hazel."

          My head pounding, and anger fueling me, I uttered an "Aargh!" kind of sound and lunged at him. I heard him laugh as he dodged my alcohol-induced attack.

          Growling in frustration, I aimed a side kick, and nearly lost my balance as the world tilted. Ethan easily dodged my pathetic attempt at taekwondo, and I heard him laugh once before I tried to uppercut him.

          He caught my wrist with one hand, and with a smirk on his face, waved his right index finger at my face. "Naughty, naughty, naughty," He mock-scolded.

          I bared my teeth and made a move as if to bite his hand gripping my wrist. 'As if ' because sober or no, I wouldn't try to bite anyone's hand. I mean, barbarian much? And it reminds me too much of zombies, for crying out loud.

          But Ethan didn't fall for it. In fact, he just gripped my other hand and slowly backed me into the sink, trapped between the tiled cement, and the unyielding strength of his body. I might just as well try pushing a freight train. "Let me go," I gritted out through my clenched teeth.

          "Only if you promise not to hit me," he replied, arching a brow. "Flash news: I do love my face, you know. Hate to get it all bruised."

          "Flash news?" I scoffed. "Its common knowledge."

          "Well, at least you pay attention," he said. "Because I'm starting to pity that brain in your head for being left to rot."

          "At least I have a brain," I retorted. "I know for a fact that you don't."

          "And this coming from the girl who got herself drunk and attacked me, an innocent bystander. Really, Hazel, how stupid can you get?"

          Infuriated, I struggled against him, and he chuckled, watching my lousy attempt to escape. "I'm going to kill you someday," I swore. "I can smell it in the air."

          "Well, that's impressive," he countered. "And here I thought you couldn't smell anything except for the smell of alcohol in your breath."

          I blew the said breath right at his nose.

          He wrinkled his nose and threw me a disgusted look. Encouraged, I blew another breath at him. Then another. And another.

          "Stop it," he commanded.

          I blew another breath. He leaned back, trying to get away. I blew another. "Christ," he said, exasperated. "The only way it seems to stop you is this."

          And he kissed me.

CHApTer Twelve: A cure

          I died and went to heaven.

          And to think that this was Ethan (Ethan!) kissing me. But damn, does this guy know how to kiss. He stumped my ex-boyfriend Dallas whose stoner talk I only endured for his mouth-watering expertise in kissing. He stumped the player in our school, Rick, when he sampled to me his famous lips which most girls in our school salivated to try.

          He stumped all my boyfriends and left them to the dust.

          Damn. And to think he was there all the time, and I never even thought to try kissing him. But no worries though. This was a rare gift from the guy above, and no way I'm discarding it. I have seen the light! Alleluia! I'm never going to stray off the path again.

          I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer. His arms tightened. This was no tentative first kiss. This was Oh-my-gosh-I'm-burning kiss. Ethan kissed like he meant it, every bit of it. Like he was starving for more.

          And what girl wouldn't like that?

          Reluctantly, both of us pulled away, breathing hard. I still had my arms around his neck, and somehow during the kiss, his hands moved away from my wrists and curled around my waist, a possessive male reaction I definitely liked. Dark blue eyes met green.

          "Holy s**t, Ethan," I gasped. "What was THAT?"

s v s

          "When two people fight as often as you and I--"

          "There's a lot of tension," I finished, taking one swallow of the loathsome tomato juice. "I know. But what are we going to do about it? We kissed, Ethan. Its not like we can just ignore it."

          "We date," he said, as if the answer was THAT easy. "We like each other enough. I mean, you aren't going to smother me with my pillow when I sleep tonight, won't you?''

          I frowned at my tomato juice and looked up to smirk at him. "Sorry. I don't date outside my species."

          "Ha ha," he said, flicking one strand of my hair. "Come on, Hazel. Lower your standards a little. I just did."

          I elbowed him in the ribs, popped the Vitamin B tablet into my mouth, gulped some tomato juice, and swallowed. I grimaced. "I'm not going to date with you, Ethan," I told him reasonably. "Just forget it."

          "You won't be able to resist my charms," He warned me.

          I rolled my eyes. "I think I can handle it, Ethan. Don't worry."

          He gave me a smile that whispered promise. "You sure?"

          I repressed a shiver. "I'm sure."

          He took my hand and brushed his lips against my knuckles. My breath caught. "I would go to the ends of the earth for you," he murmured, lowering his lashes a little so that I could only see little of the mischievous glinting emeralds.

          "Yes," I said, trying to regain my composure, "But would you stay there?"

          The spell broke as he laughed and dropped my hand. "I'm going to enjoy playing with your pretty little mind, Hazel Williams," he promised. He flashed me a sexy smile. "The question is, are you in?"

          I told you I was a sucker for challenges.

s v s

          Stella and Mick came back a little while later, while Ethan and I were in the living room, browsing some old magazines. Actually, I was the only one browsing. Ethan was busy cleaning his shotgun, his 'little beauty' as he called it.

          "Hey guys," Stella greeted as they entered the living room. "What's up?"

          "The ceiling," Ethan deadpanned, checking the clip to count the bullets left.

          Mick appeared behind Stella and grinned. "Good one."

          "Boys," she muttered before going back to the kitchen, carrying a bulging backpack. A second later, we heard cans of food being assembled and the banging of cabinet doors.

          I stood up. "I'll go and help Stella."

          "Good riddance," Ethan muttered. I scowled, but inside I felt relieved. It was so nice being back to our constantly arguing relationship. Seductive Ethan is scaring me. Especially since I didn't know how much more I could resist before I surrender.

          And I definitely hate losing.

          I found Stella busy stacking and arranging the goods, and I went over to hand her three canned goods before she could look down and reach for them. Her eyes flew to me in shock, and she smiled gratefully as recognition dawned. "Thanks."

          Immediately, I felt guilty. They rescued me from death, and I didn't even managed to thank them.

          I tucked one lock of my dark hair behind one ear, unbelievably nervous and self-conscious. "Stella?" I said hesitantly.

          "Hmm...?" I handed over another threesome of cans as she looked down. Stella took them and stuffed them in the cabinet. "Thanks for taking care of me," I blurted out.

          Stella turned to look at me and smiled warmly. "It was nothing, Hazel," she assured me.

          "It was definitely not nothing," I said stubbornly. "You rescued me from death. I owe you my life. Hell, just say the word and I'll do it, whatever it is. I'm indebted to you. I don't think I can ever repay you."

          Stella must have seen the resolve in my eyes, for she nodded, albeit reluctantly. I grinned as I passed her another three set of cans, and she put them again inside the cabinet. I handed her cans until there was nothing left, and the cabinet was full. Stella closed the cabinet with a snap. "Why are you stocking up anyway?" I asked, hoisting myself up and sitting on the cold tiled sink. "Its not like you can stay in this house forever."

          "Actually, Mick and I just recently talked about it," Stella said, grabbing Ethan's empty soda can and throwing it in the trashcan. "We decided we were sick of moving always and scouting for shelter, and so we're going to make this house our own." She smiled. "I'll clean it up and everything. And I'll just close the blinds to make it look abandoned, so as not to alert any zombies. It'll be like home." A wistful expression crossed her face, and I wanted to ask her about her family, but it seemed like prying, so I dismissed the notion. Instead, I pulled my knees up and settled myself comfortably on the sink, hugging my knees and resting my head on them. "How did you and Mick meet?"

          Stella grabbed the empty glasses on the table and started to wash them. "Do you remember when I said we were best friends?"

          I started to nod, but realized she couldn't see me as she was facing the other side, so I said, "Yeah."

          "Well, we're not just best friends. We're also childhood friends."

          Startled, I turned to her, but she was busy unloading the dishwasher. "Its strange since I was so young, but I remember clearly how we met." I can feel the smile in her voice. "I was four and Mick was five. They just moved in the neighborhood. My mother told me to make friends with the new kid. So I did. I went into their house and saw him at their yard, swimming on their portable kiddie pool. I wanted to join him, but I was shy. When he saw me, he stood up in his trunks and got out of the pool. I remembered thinking that he was probably going to shoo me away, but he grabbed my hand and tugged me to the direction of the pool. 'We'll swim together', he told me, and that's when I knew. We're going to be best friends forever."

          "That's sweet," I said, smiling. "You're so lucky."

          "I know I am. This might be the Apocalypse, but I have Mick. He's everything I need."

          I wondered when will Mick tell her of his unrequited love for Stella, and when will Stella realize she had fallen in love with her best friend.

          Whatever it is, I thought, hopping off the sink, I wish them both the best of luck.

s v s

          A month passed.

          Life with the three of them was comfortable, and I enjoyed the peace of it everyday. Mick and Stella still haven't confessed their feelings for eachother, and Ethan and I developed a friendly-flirting-and-friendly-teasing relationship. I liked him a lot, and I thought he must have liked me too. For why else would he continue on kissing me?

          I could be washing the dishes and he'd come up behind me and kiss me. I could talking about the weather and he'd suddenly kiss me, making me forget what the heck was I talking about and makes my thoughts jumble. I could be arguing with him and his lips would suddenly be on mine, interrupting whatever tirade we have. But though we constantly kissed, we never actually crossed the boundary between friendship and something else. We still argued, I still lost my temper when he's being silly, and he still teased me about my intelligence.

          If I didn't know any better, I'd say that in the passing once month, we have suddenly turned from just friends and into bestfriends. We could communicate by just exchanging looks, know what the other was feeling just by looking at eachother's body language, and can sometimes correctly guess what the other is thinking. It was kind of exhilarating.

          It was Sunday, and Ethan and I were having another banter in the kitchen. Mick and Stella were sitting in the table, stirring their own cups of coffee and listening to us, both amused.

          Ethan had just took his shower and came to the kitchen, his dark green shirt clinging to his muscled chest and bringing out the deep green of his eyes. Stella had whistled when he came in. "You look smoking hot," she told him, making Mick look down at his own chest and grimace.

          Ethan had grinned and flexed. "Just giving the public what it wants."

          Irritated at him for making Mick feel self-conscious, I had retorted, "What are you doing here? Did someone leave your cage open?"

          And so the bantering began.

          "You're pretty..." Ethan paused. "F*****g ugly."

          "Speaking from someone who had the unlimited experience," I said.

          "If you're gonna be a smartass, Hazel,” Ethan chided, "First, you have to be smart. Otherwise, you're just an a*s."

          "And you're the pain on it," I shot back.

          "Glad to be something of use."

          "Dickhead."

          "She-dog."

          "Watch your mouth."

          "I can't. I can only see the bridge of my nose."

          "F**k you."

          "Ah, Hazel, don't say things you don't mean. You're making me think inappropriate thoughts."

          I blushed.

          Ethan smirked."Score. I win." I stuck my tongue out at him, but I was smiling. Mick rolled his eyes at us as soon as Ethan poured himself coffee and sat down beside me. "You two are like three year olds," Mick said, taking a sip of his coffee.

          "I'll pretend I just didn't hear that," Ethan said, blowing his coffee and taking a gulp. He didn't even seem to feel it, but the coffee was scorching hot. He didn't even wince.

          He noticed me staring. "Take a picture. It'll last longer."

          I looked away. "Not if I tear it to pieces."

          He grinned.

          The day passed quickly, and when evening came, I found myself lying on the bed Stella had given me, staring at the ceiling and thinkina about things. I was getting angsty. I spent two years on the run from zombies, fighting them, killing them, or dodging them. Finding myself with nothing to do but helping in the household chores, I started getting restless. This is NOT good.

          I was about to get up and grab some dinner when Ethan entered the room, strolling inside as if he had every right to be there. I glared at him. "Ever heard of the word 'knock'?"

          He zoomed in on me, grinned, hauled me up to him, and started to kiss me. Immediately I melted, and I kissed him back, but drew back when Ethan showed no sign of stopping.

          "What are you doing here?" I asked.

          His arms loosened around me, and if possible, his grin grew bigger. "Well, I believe the Lord has sent me here to accomplish a purpose and be a good steward to all of the creations just like what Adam and Eve--"

          I thumped his chest with my hand. "I'm serious, Ethan!"

          He kissed me again. "You're look hotter when you're mad."

          I raised my eyes to the heavens. "Oh, for the love of--"

          I forgot the rest of what I was saying as Ethan gave me a first hand experience of what exactly kissing can do with just the right passion...

          I pushed myself away from him. "Ethan!"

          He raised both hands in the air. "Sorry. I just can't help myself."

          I tried to stay mad, but it was impossible. I sighed. "Ethan, if you want something to tell me, tell me now."

          A ringing silence ensued.

          Frustrated, I made my way towards the door, but Ethan grabbed my wrist and spun me towards him. He leaned forward until his mouth brushed my ear.

          "I'm leaving tomorrow," He murmured.

          I froze, and my heart skipped a beat. "What?" I spluttered.

          "I'm leaving," he repeated, and for once, his green eyes were serious. "I have to continue my trek up north. I can't stay here forever. I still have something to do."

          "Something to do?" I echoed. "What are you talking about?"

          He merely shook his head.

          My eyes flashed. "Well, in that case, I wish you a happy journey. Goodbye, Ethan."

          I turned around to make a dramatic exit, but Ethan's hand was still grabbing mine. I heard him sigh.

          "Okay, I'll tell you. But only if you promise not to tell," he finally said.

          Smiling, I bounded towards him and kissed him full in the mouth. "My lips are closed."

          "Okay," he took a deep breath. "I think there might be a cure for the plague."

          My jaw dropped.

CHApTer ThirteEN:Maverick

          Okay, I hadn't expected that.

          "A cure?" I repeated, trying to absorb the information. "Are you telling me there's a cure for the zombies so that they'll be reverted to their former selves?"

          He nodded.

          My knees went weak at the thought of all the endless possibilities the cure has to offer. I quickly sat down on the bed, before my legs gave up and I crash to the floor. Ethan was looking at me warily.

          "How did you know?" I said softly, looking at him. "How did you know there was--there might be a cure?"

          He sat beside me, avoiding my eyes and looking at the adjacent wall. "My father was a scientist," he told me, voice quiet. So quiet, in fact, that I have to strain my ears to hear them. "His name was Maverick Blake."

          I started, remembering a night before the plague when Dad came home late, and I was petting Az, watching television. The look on his face had said that something was on his mind, and as someone who was a daughter of a scientist, I inquired, "What's wrong?"

          Shaking his head and squatting beside me to scratch Az under the chin, he said, "Its nothing. Just something that happened at work."

          And of course, I demanded, "Tell me."

          Dad sighed, but relented. "My co-scientist, Maverick, predicted that the whole world was ending, starting from a plague."

          I couldn't help it--I guffawed. Dad smiled, but it was weak. "Yeah, that's what I had thought," he had said. We said our goodnights to each other, and we went to sleep.

          I never once thought that maybe Ethan's father was right. Dad hadn't either, and now it came back to bite us in the a*s.

          "No one would believe him when he said the world was ending. I haven't either." His voice was filled with regret.

          "Sometimes he comes down in his laboratory at the basement and work there for hours. Then one day, he just started staying there longer, coming up only for meals. Sometimes he doesn't eat altogether. Then, when he did came back up, he was pale and haggard looking that Mom and I started to worry. And just suddenly, while we were eating dinner one day, he stood up and told us to pack. I protested of course. Besides thinking that Dad had gone bonkers, someone I liked had invited me to a party the next week, and I was too pissed off at Dad not caring for me anymore and just devoting all his time at his work. But Dad didn't hear any of it. By the next day, we were all packed and ready to go.

          But I was desperate to go to the party. While he and Mom were busy filling the car at a gasoline station, I jumped off, grabbed my things, and made a ran for it. I had called my bestfriend last night to stay at his place, and he agreed. I was reckless, and I didn't thought the situation was that alarming. My Mom and Dad called for me, but I didn't look back. I didn't know where they went, but the night zombies started appearing and attacking, I went again to Dad's basement and found random pieces of writing written on Post-it notes stuck on his desk. I noticed one with words written hastily, as if Dad was hurrying for something, or he was giddy. The note said, 'Treatment XIV have been showing improvement. The cure?' and beside it, the words 'Go north' were highlighted in red ink. After I got Dad's shotgun and grabbed some knives from the kitchen and some other supplies, I proceeded towards north on foot." Ethan paused and looked at me. "I hope my parents are somewhere out there. They're the only reason I keep on going."

          I was speechless. Ethan had just bared his soul at me, and I didn't know what to do. Finally, I admitted, just to break the resounding silence, "My dad's missing too. I'm still looking for him."

          We were quiet for a while, probably the first time ever recorded in history. We didn't say even a one sarcastic remark to each other. Progress.

          "So you're going north tomorrow?" I asked.

          He nodded.

          I stood up. "Well, you better get out if I'm going to pack my things."

          His eyebrows nearly disappeared beneath his hairline. "You're coming with me?"

          "No," I said sarcastically. "I'm going to the beach."

          Without a warning, Ethan suddenly kissed me, deep, long, and passionate. I broke away, gasping. "Jeez, Ethan," I said, "Do you want to give me a heart attack?"

          Ethan smirked. "I wish you no harm, but it would have been better if you never lived."

          I shoved him out of my room.

s v s

          We set off at dawn, leaving a note for Mick and Stella to find. "Its better this way," Ethan said. "A clean break." He grinned. "Also, I don't have to thank Mick for taking their food supply. He'll make me grovel before finally letting me take it."

          "We didn't take all of it," I argued. "It was only half of it." I chewed my bottom lip. "Maybe we should have wake them first. I feel guilty for stealing from Stella when she already lent me her hospitality."

          "Please," Ethan rolled his eyes. "They still have a lot of food supply at the basement. They'll never run out."

          "Basement?" I asked, surprised.

          Ethan ruffled my hair. "You were asleep for six days. You're bound to be left out of something I discovered while I scouted their house."

          "You scouted their house?!"

          "Never hurts to be careful, Williams. For all I know, they could be rapists or something."

          "Typical," I muttered. "Full of himself till the bitter end."

          And of course, Ethan heard me. He smirked. "Not bad if you have you a reason to."

          I swatted him in the chest. "There are several people in the world that I find unbearably obnoxious, and you are all of them."

          "And maybe," rebuked Ethan, "If you ate some of that physical beauty of yours, you could be pretty in the inside too."

          My eyes widened. "So you DO think I'm beautiful."

          "Yeah. As beautiful as Medusa."

          I smacked him. Ethan and I braved the snow-filled road, treading carefully as not to slip and fall. Before we left, we also searched in Stella and Mick's closet for winter clothing, since it must have been 18 degrees outside. I almost died because of snow. No need to repeat it.

          So now I'm here outside in the cold, waves of dark hair spilling under a fake fur hat I discovered at the very bottom of Stella's closet. I borrowed her winter jacket and furry boots too. I also tried to ease my guilt by leaving her a note saying thanks and apology. Looking sideways at Ethan, I knew he had no problem in the guilt department. He was wearing Mick's ski cap, jacket, pants, boots, and even his earmuffs. He also stole his gloves. I'm trekking to north with a felon. Sigh. My luck screwing with me again.

s v s

          When dusk came, Ethan and I were settling our things in a small clearing, pine trees covered with snow encircling us. I was trying to make a fire while Ethan assembled the tent he also 'found' in Mick's closet. That guy's a freaking boy scout.

          "How's the fire going?" Ethan asked, grunting as he pinned another pole deep in the ground.

          "There is no fire," I morosely answered. "It just--" I rubbed the two stones so hard I heard a little crack, "--won't work." I dropped the two scorching stones and sat on the ground, exhausted. A month without doing anything difficult like fighting had made me a little out of practice. The hike nearly had me collapsing.

          Finished building the tent, Ethan took a few steps backward and surveyed his masterpiece. He looked pleased with himself. But then again, when did Ethan ever disappoint himself?

          Satisfied, he plopped next to me, grabbed the two abandoned stones, and started rubbing them. I stood up. "Well, you look like you're already managing it," I said. "I'll just go to the tent and rest, then."

          Ethan grabbed the hem of my jacket and dragged me down, almost making me lose my balance. I glared at him.

          "You keep me company," he ordered, returning back to his work. "I did most of the chores anyway. The least you could do is to be responsible for my entertainment and keep me happy by talking about yourself.''

          "Responsible?" I scoffed. "Who wants to be responsible? Whenever something bad happens, its always, 'Who's responsible for this?' And besides," I added, "Why would me talking about myself make you happy?"

          He shot me a devilish grin. "You know what make they say," he drawled, "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."

          I rolled my eyes.

          Ethan nudged me. "C'mon, talk," he persuaded. Then he smirked. "You know you want to."

          "Puh-lease," I said, but relented. After all, he just told me his past. Time to pay the favor.

          "I have always been kind of a wild child," I began, but Ethan muttered, "Big surprise," so I cut myself off and turned to glare at him. "Do you want me to talk or not?" I demanded.

          Ethan shrugged. I started talking again. Shrugging is probably Ethan's definition of an olive branch.

          "My Mum's a business executive, and my dad's a scientist. I'm an only child, so naturally, I'm a bit spoiled."

          "Just a bit?" Ethan grinned.

          I scowled. "Anyway," I continued, "I have always been kind of a trouble-maker, even as a kid. Mum and Dad tried to tame me, but in the end, they gave me up and let me be. I went to parties almost every night, tried all drugs mankind has ever created, dated a lot of boys, joined gangs, got myself a tattoo--you know, the likes of teenage rebellious. I don't know how my parents put up with me, but they ever rarely ever scold me. My principal learned not to call them every time I got detention, which, now that I think about it, is almost always every day. I got kicked out in a lot of schools, suspended sometimes twice in one month, and even my teachers threatened to send me to a rehab." I smiled ruefully.

          "When the plague came, and I was all alone, I realized how a mess my life really is. Back then, I thought my life was all fun, but when the booze and all the parties and my so-called 'fans' were gone, I was all alone, without doing something in my life I'd be proud of." I shook my head. "I miss Az. He was the only thing in my life that stayed, despite my attitude, the plague, and all obstacles in between. And now he's dead." A lump formed my throat. "He was gone too. He left me."

          I suddenly realized a fire was crackling in front of me, and night had fallen. Ethan was staring at me intently, his brows furrowed, as if I'm a great puzzle he just can't solve. Then he smiled. "Well, at least you got me."

          I slowly smiled back. "Is that supposed to be reassuring?"

CHApTer FOUrTEen:snow

          When I woke up the next morning, it was late, and Ethan was nowhere to be seen. I got outside and saw him, sitting with his back on me, shotgun gripped in one hand.

          I walked towards him and asked him grumpily why he didn't wake me up for my shift to watch, and I was informed that he heard noises coming from my tent that seemed to sound like either demonic possesion or my having turned into a grunting polar bear by night and he didn't feel like it was nice to interrupt either one.

          I told him my snoring isn't that bad, and anyway, shut the hell up.

          We packed all our things and walked on, eating our breakfast along the way, which was a can of sausages. It was hardly satisfying, but we have to content ourselves with what we got.

          At mid-afternoon, Ethan and I took a break and I was just recapping my water bottle after taking a long swig when a pack of snow hit me right in the face.

          I glared at the culprit, swiping the snow away. "Real mature, Ethan."

          Another hit me on the chest. "Scared of surrendering to my bad a*s prowess?" he taunted.

          I stood up. "Oh, its on. This is war."

          And I hit him with a snow ball.

s v s

          I laughed like a super villain, wishing there were lightning behind me for special effects. "Surrender! Or I shall torture you for eternity."

          Ethan sneered. "Never."

          We were both hiding behind a tree, two snow balls ready to shoot gripped on both hands. I peered behind the three to squint at Ethan, but I can only see his jacket. Drawing a deep breath, I screamed a battle cry and charged towards the enemy. Snow buffeted me, but I continued on, bravely fighting for the sake of common good.

          At last I reached Ethan. With all my force, I threw both snow balls at him and lunged. The moment was like in slow motion, everything magnified. My hands pushing Ethan to the ground. His cry of surprise. My body falling on top of his. One hand grabbing for the snow. Throwing it on his face. And sitting on top of him, pinning him down.

          I pumped my fist in the air. "I WIN!"

          I stood up and did a little dance around Ethan, gloating "I win!" over and over again. I laughed. "I win!"

          He grinned, propping himself on his elbows and watching me celebrate. The snow slowly trickled down his face, leaving a wet trail. In fact, both of us seemed to be soaked with snow. I plopped back down to lie back on the ground beside Ethan. "I win," I breathed, adrenaline still surging up in my body. I felt like I was still seven years old, carefree and innocent without a single fistfight written under my name.

          Ethan affected an Australian accent mixed with Scottish. "Aye, aye, you win," he said. "But you see, mate, I only let you win. Being a gentleman an' all."

          I stuck my tongue out. "Excuses, excuses," I said haughtily.

          We lay there on our backs for a while, gazing at the cloudless blue sky. After a moment, I said to Ethan, "Do you think my father is there too?"

          Ethan turned to me, taken aback at the sudden question. "There?" he questioned.

          "You know," I said, not looking at him, "At the place your parents probably went on north. I mean, surely there was a place they could stay in there. My dad...do you think he's there with them?"

          "I don't know Hazel," Ethan replied. "But I hope he's there. And my parents too."

          I finally looked back at him. "You and me both."

          "Let's make snow angels," Ethan suddenly said, and he started moving his arms and legs, making a pair of wings. He grinned at me. "Few people could say this: 'I lived the Apocalypse, and I made snow angels.' C'mon, Haze," he persuaded. "Let's leave our mark for the world to find. Let's make snow angels."

          It wasn't the idea that had me moving; it was because he used a nickname for me, and I was struck by how it touched me. No one used an endearment to call me before, not even my closest friends.

          I smiled to myself. Funny how Ethan and I became inseparable, despite the fact that we first got off on the wrong foot. Also funny is the fact that when I finally realized how messy my life is, and how amazing it us to do the things I used to scorn, like making snow angels and having a snowball fight, it would be during the Apocalypse, when the world was ending and everyone was doomed to die.

          Talk about ironic.

s v s

          A scream echoed in the night.

          A week had passed, and Ethan and I were sitting, talking about our past relationships when we heard the scream. We immediately gathered all our weapons, and Ethan holding a flashlight, we got out of our nice little tent and out of the clearing and towards the road, where the scream definitely came from. It was near midnight, so the fire we had built had been long extinguished, leaving only the glow of our flashlights to illumine the heavy darkness.

          Once we were on the road, Ethan swung the flashlight towards north, where we heard an almost inaudible sobbing. The flashlight revealed a little girl, her blond hair in tangles, hugging herself at the middle of the road, at a little distance from us. She was crying, and her yellow dress was in tatters around her, soaked with blood. I gasped, and without a second thought, I ran towards her, ignoring Ethan's cry of "Hazel, stop!"

          "Please," she moaned, rocking back and fro, "Somebody help me!"

          "Its okay," I called to her, stopping a few feet away. I heard Ethan curse, and the sound of his shoes slapping the pavement echoed in the night as he ran towards me. He skidded just beside me, drawing to a halt.

          I outstretched an arm for her to grab. "Its okay," I repeated. "We got you. We're good people."

          The pitiful little girl slowly raised her head, and I caught just a glimpse of those awful red eyes before she opened her mouth to reveal jagged teeth. "But I'm not," she snarled before she lunged at me, her hands forming into claws.

          She must be newly turned if she can talk, I thought vaguely before that damnable blackness dragged me under.

CHApTer FifTeEN:DEAD Meat

          A chorus of Grudge-keening sound. Ohhhh...I slowly opened my eyes, aware of my pounding head. It felt so heavy, like my head ballooned to the size of a grand piano. Ohhhh...my body felt bruised, old, and just a wee bit close to dying. Ohhhh...

          I was in a dark room, full of boarded windows and blood crusted walls. The floor felt dirty beneath me, and the room was empty and bare of furniture. My hands were chained above me, and they have stripped me of my winter clothes and weapons, so that I was down to my handy faded jeans and t-shirt. I shivered, struggling to get out of the stupor I had fallen into. I just couldn't understand how the zombies became so smart. They never laid a trap that clever before. Mostly when they saw a human, they attack, eat, and happily ever after. The only thing that gave us (humans) an advantage to zombies is that we still have our logical and rational way of thinking, using cunning to escape from them.

          But if the zombies had become clever too...

          We're dead meat.

          And that's speaking both figuratively AND literally.

          A cluster of zombies were hungrily looking down at me, their purple tongues slowly licking their dry, cracked lips in anticipation. Gross.

          "Hazel?" A voice groaned.

          I turned my head to the right. Ethan was slowly waking up beside me, his hands, like mine, also chained. They had stripped him too, and there was a gash on his left cheek. His eyelids, before a half-mast, snapped open in shock when he took in my situation. "Are they..." he trailed off.

          "Gut me, eat my flesh, drink my blood, and tear my body into pieces until all that was left is a slaughtered-looking carcass?" I supplied wryly. "Yeah, you could say that."

          Ethan didn't smile. He looked horrified. "Holy s**t. We have to get out of here!"

          I rolled my eyes. "Okay. Just let me gather all my superpowers."

          "Hazel, I'm serious."

          He was.

          I sighed. "I don't know what you want me to do, Ethan. Its over. Or do you think I could pull off a Jackie Chan move by killing them all just by using my legs?"

          "Well, you could try."

          I looked at him for a moment. "Ethan," I said slowly, "Did they bump your head too hard?" I tugged at my chains, and the zombies all snarled, reacting to the sudden sound. "See? I'm done for." I smiled at him. "At least I made my mark in the world. Thank you for that."

          His eyes shined suspiciously with what looked like unshed tears. "Yeah," He murmured. "At least we made our mark in the world." He smiled back. "It was nice meeting you, Hazel Williams."

          "It was a pleasure meeting you too, Ethan Blake."

          Then I turned to my captors. "You know," I drawled, eyeing their red eyes and yucky faces, "When I look at you...I feel...million years of human evolution was such a waste."

          Then I smirked.

          And then all the devil's spawn descended on me.

EpiLogue: The Quarantine

          Light filtered through the windows, blinding me with their sudden brightness. A door bursted open, and I heard sounds of someone shooting fire and the scream of zombies and the sound of bodies thumping to the floor. Also...I heard the soft whirring of an engine. But...that was impossible wasn't it?

          I heard the sound of chains breaking and hands patting me down. "She's clear," a muffled voice announced. I opened my eyes to see a mask peering down at me, his clothes looking vaguely like the clothes soldier wear. Sure enough, along with the mask, he was wearing a helmet too. Consider me not surprised.

          "This one's also clear," another muffled said, and again the sound of chains breaking. Warm arms suddenly engulfed me, and I met the familiar green eyes of Ethan Blake. I smiled. "We're unkillable, aren't we?" I murmured before the soldier separated me and Ethan. Now that I came back to my senses and can fully evaluate my surroundings, I realized that about fifteen soldiers milled in the room, all with guns cocked at our surroundings. The soldier holding me began to drag me away. "Wait," I said, confused. "Where are we going?"

          "Well Miss," the muffled voice replied, "We're going to take you both to the nearest quarantine."

s v s

A YEAR LATER...

          "Did you talk to your dad already?" I asked Ethan as he sat beside me in the cafeteria, ignoring the appreciative eyes of the many girls surrounding us. Okay already, he's handsome, I thought, glaring at all the girls. Get over it.

          "Yeah," Ethan replied, gulping down his soda. "Its always a hectic schedule over at the lab, you know with all the zombies they've been curing. But I managed to corner him when he got home."

          "Poor man," I said. "Just think of the mess that is going to be left behind for him to clean after you got your birthday wish: Have a full-blast party and live to the fullest before the zombies eat your guts."

          He smiled and gave me a quick kiss. "So, are you coming?"

          "Well," I teased, gesturing at all the girls secretly looking at him under their hair, "I don't know. A lot seemed to be secretly fantasizing kissing you tonight. I don't want to get them too intimidated by my exquisite beauty and undeniable charms."

          "Oh, and don't forget to include infinite modesty," Ethan said.

          "Oh, yes," I sighed. "As the gifted Venus on this earth, who am I to break all of this mortals' heart in their conquest to conquer the heart of my mortal lover?"

          Ethan grinned and grabbed our food. "C'mon, let's go outside to eat. There's enough paparazzi here to make me feel overwhelmed."

          "Oh, they're just probably dazzled with my beauty," I said, waving a hand airily and grinning.

          "Well, can't say I blame them. When they see how awesome, gorgeous, intelligent..."

          I blushed.

          "...you're boyfriend is."

          "Hey!" I exclaimed, smacking him on the chest. We slowly walked towards the exit, munching our lunch. I looked sideways at him. "If this is how you make your girlfriend feel special, no wonder you haven't got many. I don't know whether to believe if you DO love me anymore."

          I meant it as a joke, but Ethan took it seriously. Pausing at the doorway, he tilted my chin with his fingers to make me meet his emerald eyes. He looked intense and serious. Uh-oh.

          "Hazel, I love you," he said slowly, never looking away. "I love that your nose gets red when its cold outside, I love that you snore, I love that you smack me in the chest when I annoy you, I love that I can annoy you, I love that you are dauntless, I love your witty remarks and the fact that you have a short temper, I love that you're tactless and you have a hero complex sometimes. I love that you can be sometimes selfish, spoiled, and annoying. I love everything about you. Now, do you want me to get down on my knees and sing a ballad for you and all your gorgeous beauty? Well, hate to disappoint, but that'll never happen." He took a deep breath. "I love you for your flaws, Hazel Williams, and I'll do anything for you just not that sappy s**t. Besides the fact that it gives me goose bumps, many men already did that before me, and I don't want to be one of that many men. I'm a different man loving a different girl and I want our story to be unique and realistic, not some fairytale crap."

          "Wow," I said. "That was some...speech."

          He smiled and draped an arm around my waist. "Yes it was, and it was also spontaneous. So, are you coming?"

          I grinned. "My dad said yes."

          "Woohoo!" Ethan yelled, grinning. "We're going to rock this party, Haze. Oh, and get ready to get drunk. I also love the way you barf in the toilet after thirteen shots."

          I rolled my eyes. "You're wacko, Ethan."

          He smirked. "And so are you, girlfriend."

          I laughed at his imitation of a homosexual voice. "Ever heard of the story when the girl accused her soul mate-to-be of being gay?" I asked.

          Ethan laughed. "Ooh, that sounds interesting." He leaned in for a kiss. "Tell me."

          I smiled. "But the prince has to kiss the princess first."

          Ethan's hold on me tightened. "Consider that done."

s v s

          My last tip> In man's struggle against the world, bet on the world. It's much bigger. Peace out!

          THE END

         

         

         

 

         

 

 

         

         

         

 

          

Reviews

[Bluefire]

Very interesting read I liked it :)